


Stomkru 2: Journey: Reboot

by SingingTheThunder



Series: Stomkru [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Axe Violence, Canon-Typical Bondage, Canon-Typical Questionable Medical Practices, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical drug and alcohol abuse by minors, Consensual Underage Sex, Enough partner swapping that I'm only tagging the ships in the first two chapters, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genocide, Gun Violence, Impact Play, Knife Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Not in a fun cool way, Not involving anyone under 16, Of Mixed Explicitness, Other, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sexual BDSM, Sexual Content, Spies & Secret Agents, Stalking, Suicidal Thoughts, Sword Violence, Violence, non-sexual bdsm, permenant injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21775255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingTheThunder/pseuds/SingingTheThunder
Summary: The Mountain has fallen.The Coalition's greatest enemy brought to their knees by a girl who came from the sky.The Ark has fallen.The survivors forced to make a new life on the ground.As winter sets in, a new enemy presents itself. Not just the ice, but the Ice Nation.With open warfare impossible, Hainofi Clarke isn't sticking around to play politics either. It's suicide, but that's what they said about facing the Maunon.Besides, this is just reconnaissance.Easy.The second installment in the Stomkru series, rewritten for comprehensibility and continuity.
Relationships: Atom/Maya Vie, Wells Jaha/Roan
Series: Stomkru [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1114179
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. The Last War

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to Thunder Copes With Trauma By Writing Rebooted.
> 
> If you haven't read Stomkru: Arrival ... this will make no sense, sorry.
> 
> Don't ask me how Wells/Roan became a thing. My only answer is that they insisted.
> 
> Trigedasleng reminders:  
> Haiplana - Queen, first in the hierarchy of a kru, Nia's title  
> Haihefa - King, second in the hierarchy, nobody's title as of this chapter  
> Hainofi - Princess, heir to the Haiplana, third in the hierarchy, Clarke's title  
> Hainofa - Prince, heir to the Haihefa, fourth in the hierarchy, Wells and Roan's title  
> Setneshona - One who oversees the setting up of tents, head of internal affairs, sometimes wrongly translated as Bodyguard, Miller's title  
> Maunon - Mountain Men, occupants of Mount Weather  
> Tek - technology  
> Seda - teacher  
> Branwoda - idiot  
> kom - of/from  
> Bandrona - Ambassador  
> Gona - warrior/fighter/soldier  
> Seken - second/squire/trainee  
> Heda - Commander (of the Coalition)

Lexa doesn’t order anyone, besides her entourage, to travel with her to witness the execution of the Maunon, but there are representatives of all twelve krus riding with her nonetheless.

Plus Wells’ tiny Stomkru delegation.

He’d sent Jones back to the wreck of Alpha and Mecha to update the Arkers on the situation and some Grounder tradition or other meant he’d had to leave a representative in Polis. Jackson had volunteered. Wells isn’t happy about that, but he has to admit Jackson’s also the only one he’d trust with the job.

One of the pieces of information that Jones is relaying is that Azgeda executed those on Farm Station.

Bryan’s dead.

Wells had never met him, but he’d heard Miller talking about him. He supposes he’s sad.

He’s sadder about the losses of Kane, the Earth Skills Teacher, and ninety per cent of their farmers. They’re truly reliant on the Grounders for survival now.

Yujleda had handed over the survivors from Hydra, as had Trishanakru with Factory, although Trishana had first destroyed everything that could be described as ‘tek’. Arrow and Tesla hadn’t had any survivors to be handed over. Jones and Mike had both been from Arrow. Kath doesn’t know if there’s anyone waiting for her from Factory.

The Arker survivors will reunite on the slopes of Mount Weather.

And then the Maunon will die.

Wells just hopes Clarke has the sense to let them.

They set their tents up around the main entrance to Mount Weather. If they weren’t so few and so relaxed it could be mistaken for a siege.

But even if they sleep outside, about half of them spend their waking hours inside the Mountain.

Clarke and Atom, a quiet tug of war over Maya’s influence that Maya herself has no patience for. If Maya notices Clarke wins that round by default as the one Maya ultimately surrendered to. Neither Clarke nor Atom want it to be decided like that.

Raven, she’s been quiet since Finn left with Miller, left without a word to her. She haunts the maintenance corridors and areas labelled Authorised Personnel Only, armed with a toolbox, dismantling weapons that have killed and killed for a century.

Jacob and Monroe have yet to escape, Jason and Sterling the cages keeping them there. He follows at her heel, confused expression as though Jason is playing some trick and he’ll jump out of hiding at any moment. Jacob doesn’t know what’s taking him so long. Monroe turns to stone, armours herself in an unyielding strength, but she never sends him away.

Charlotte loves the bunker. She’s the only one, Mountain Man or Delinquent that does. She joins the lessons held for the children of Mount Weather. They’ve never met anyone _new_ before. They’ve never met anyone who carries a _sword_ before. Their parents do what they can to discourage them, but Charlotte is so _cool_.

None of the rest enter unless directly ordered to.

Without Mbege or Atom or Raven or Miller or Clarke, Bellamy finds himself cast as the responsible adult. He’s pretty sure it should be Harper or Jasper, but Harper doesn’t interfere and Jasper – Jasper is very much the ringleader for the irresponsible behaviour.

Octavia and Monty are behind him every step, of course, and Murphy happily joins them, as does Shoana. There’s not much they can do with only Bellamy as a potential victim, but had Clarke known about it there would have been serious consequences.

Even Bellamy doesn’t say a word to her. Protecting Octavia.

Harper watches.

It’s her thing after all, even if there’s no one left who cares enough for her to tell. Clarke had paid less and less attention to Harper’s updates until she’d snapped at Harper to shut up. Harper hadn’t tried again since.

Harper considers starting a diary, just to get the words out, but there’s too much danger of it falling into the hands of someone who’ll use it against them somehow. She doesn’t miss Finn much. No more than she’d miss her left hand. They’d had a fun goodbye. Wasn’t like either of them had expected the other to fall in love. She hasn’t.

Quite possibly she’s fallen out of love with him because of it.

Harper had been vulnerable and Finn had wanted to punish Raven and he’d taken advantage of the former to do the latter. It’s natural that Harper would feel a little betrayed, she hadn’t known about Clarke and Raven, had assumed he’d simply been ready to move on. Finn and Harper had had a good thing until they got sex involved.

Now she isn’t sure where she fits.

She can’t find a place in the Mountain, she’s not responsible enough to team up with Bellamy and she’s not irresponsible enough to team up with Jasper. Hopefully when the Arkers arrive she’ll find something. They’ll need her knowledge of the local area.

For now she sits in the fork of a tree, half listens to Bellamy’s latest indignation and turns a page in her book.

“Okay, not I-Spy then,” Myles says, relentlessly cheerful. “How about Twenty Questions? Ha, that was a question, but it doesn’t count! Who wants to go first? … Ah ah, still doesn’t count.”

Does he need to _breathe_? They’ve been walking for hours, Miller doesn’t even have the energy to tell him to shut up.

“Shut up, Myles,” Lisa says between steps.

Thank fuck.

Myles doesn’t.

“Myles, shut up,” Connor snaps. “I will pay Mbege to make you.”

Mbege angles his path to distance himself from Connor, saying nothing.

Myles takes this as encouragement.

“Hey, Lisa,” Finn says, with a level of flirtation that Miller is pretty sure Raven wouldn’t approve of, “I can barely hear him from over here.”

Lisa rolls her eyes and angles her path to distance herself from Finn. Tragically this puts her nearer to Myles who starts intently explaining the rules of Twenty Questions.

Connor glares at Finn, hands clenched into fists. “Maybe she doesn’t want to walk with you.”

“I can tell him that myself,” Lisa snaps.

Finn looks like a kicked puppy.

Mbege seems to be making a serious effort to walk as far away from everyone as possible without actually changing direction.

Miller considers joining him. Only problem with that plan is that he’s leading the way.

Okay. Think about his dad. He’ll get to see his dad soon. Jackson too. Finally get to hear word about Bryan. The Arkers have made radio contact with other survivors, but Miller hadn’t stayed long enough to hear details. But he knows his dad is alive and unharmed and he’ll get to see him soon.

And his dad probably won’t arrest him if Miller murdered his travelling companions. At least not if he hid the bodies …

Five isn’t a very big number.

Clarke probably wouldn’t mind if Bellamy added five to his tally.

Or rather four, he can’t hurt Octavia.

Evil little shits know it too.

“I acted entirely alone,” Octavia tells him earnestly, referring to an event that would have required her to be in three places at the same time with both a height and a skill with rope she doesn’t have.

“Mhmm,” Bellamy makes an unconvinced noise.

Octavia’s eyes fill with tears at will. “Don’t you believe me?” she asks, apparently distraught.

On the Ark Bellamy had ignored those tears countless times when she’d begged to go outside their room just once. Here …

He can’t deny her another childhood, the chance at friendship. She’d missed out on so much and it’s not like they’re doing anything dangerous, just annoying.

And if he won’t punish Octavia, it wouldn’t be fair on the others to punish them either. Even Murphy. They’ve been using Octavia to get out of trouble though and Bellamy knows that’s what they’re doing and, worse, they know he knows that’s what they’re doing. It still works. Until he catches someone other than Octavia red handed …

Bellamy could take this to Clarke, but that would mean admitting to her and Atom that he can’t control five teenagers. He _can’t_.

Miller would know what to do, but he’s not here. Raven is busy. He doesn’t know Monroe well enough to ask her. Jacob’s an idiot. Maya … well, she has way more important concerns than whatever Jasper’s getting up to these days.

Which leaves …

Harper.

How’d he miss her – except for that being her entire thing.

Bellamy hauls himself up into her tree without asking for an invitation. He needs an ally.

Harper tucks a leaf between the pages as a bookmark, before closing the book and giving Bellamy her undivided attention. “You need to isolate Murphy, he’ll fold on them with a bit of persuasion. Get him to act alone or as the frontman.”

Bellamy isn’t sure Murphy will betray them that easily, he hadn’t when it had been Jason and Jacob he’d been protecting. Then again it’s more of a plan than he’d had prior to talking to Harper.

“Oooor,” she says, drawing the word out in a way that makes Bellamy certain he’s not going to like what she says next. He’s right. “You could just punish Octavia. After all, she’s been taking credit. The others, well, Jasper at least and they’ll follow his lead, won’t be okay with getting away with it if she doesn’t. They’ll confess.”

“Wouldn’t that work just as well with Murphy?” Bellamy asks, not even considering the version with Octavia for more than a second.

Harper looks at him almost pityingly. “Let me tell you a story. Back on the Ark, day before we were sent to the Ground – okay, you need to know that before that we’d been having Earth Studies lessons for a couple of weeks. No one knew why. You know the Earth Studies teacher, Pike?” She waits for his nod before continuing, “So, Murphy’s mouthing off as usual. Saying it’s pointless, asking if we can go now. He’s standing, ready to just walk out and Pike hits him, right across the face.”

Bellamy’s not too shocked or even surprised. Sure, he’s never heard of a teacher getting violent, but he’s been on both ends of random Guard violence enough not to find it unbelievable. He doesn’t say anything, letting Harper continue.

“Now this is Murphy we’re talking about, so of course he’s gotta test it. Mouths off again. He gets hit again and now he’s paying attention. He tries to back down, takes a seat like he was told and that should have been the end of it, right? Only Pike doesn’t let it go, he follows Murphy, keeps goading him, orders him to fight back.”

Bellamy winces, pretty sure he knows how well that’s going to go over.

“Murphy, naturally, does. He’s hopelessly outmatched, gets his ass kicked. Couple of kids from the same station as him try to help, most of us just watch. Me, Jasper, Miller, we did nothing. Octavia, she yelled for Pike to stop.”

Bellamy feels pride for his sister, even though he wishes she’d picked a better person to protect. Then again, Bellamy has been feeling pretty protective over Murphy recently …

“Doesn’t help, Pike doesn’t stop until he’s forced. Took the Guard intervening. Pike tells us it was supposed to teach us to work together, to fight side by side. Tells us we’ll never survive the Ground if we can’t. If, you know, you hadn’t shown up and made Murphy your second in command, none of us would’ve let him forget it. Jasper, he found it _funny_. Sure a lot’s happened since then, but if there’s anyone in that group Jasper would let float, it’s Murphy.”

Bellamy absorbs this information.

“Wouldn’t hurt to try it, either I’m right and Murphy betrays them or you’re right and Jasper confesses to protect him.”

She’s right there at least.

“You can figure out how to do it on your own though,” Harper tells him. “Baiting Murphy is something of a speciality of yours.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, getting a grin in return and drops out of the tree. This should be easy. Clarke had done it with Bellamy and a bucket of berries. Raven had done it with Bellamy and a bit of scrap leather. Bellamy is definitely the contributing factor.

Aden doesn’t tell Mike he’s going with them to the Mountain, until he shows up in the stables when they’re all about to leave and starts saddling his horse.

Mike lights up.

“Heda says it be educational,”Aden says, biting back a grin.

Mike’s enthusiasm fades slightly. “I don’t want to see that many people die,” he confesses as though he’s expecting scorn from Aden.

He needs to bite his cheek to keep from grinning. “I don’t either,” Aden admits, “but, blood must -”

“Have blood,” Mike finishes for him. “I know, I just don’t understand why.”

As someone who’d needed to be punished several times before he’d stopped asking that question out loud, Aden doesn’t feel the best placed to answer. Maybe when he’s Commander and can ask the Spirits of the Commanders it’ll make sense. He doesn’t even bother to parrot Titus’ answer, he respects Mike too much for that. Aden doesn’t think Titus’ answer is good enough. He’s just learned not to tell Titus that.

“When I be Commander blood will no have blood,” Aden promises. “This will be the Last War, after everyone will be at peace. The Commander will rule over all disagreements and – and I will find an alternative. For my people.”

Mike looks at him strangely, but not a bad strange. “You’ll be a great Commander, Aden,” he says. “Like Clarke.”

Aden almost panics, quickly glancing around to see if anyone’s in hearing range. “Hainofi Clarke be a good leader, sha, but I learn from the example of Heda Lexa and the wisdom of Fleimkepa Titus. My command will be great, because they teach me to be great.”

There’s a hint of anger Mike can’t quite hide as he nods agreement. They’ve had this conversation before in private, both agreeing they’d rather be Clarke than Lexa, but there’s no point in Aden getting in trouble for saying it publicly.

“Will your seda be joining us?” Mike asks, steering the conversation away from potentially dangerous topics. “We could all benefit from his wisdom,” he adds, less than honestly.

Aden shakes his head, sharing a secret grin of relief with Mike. “The other Natblidas will stay here. Titus will stay to teach them. Heda Lexa ask for me.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “Titus was very angry. He know I don’t respect him. He think that will make me a bad Commander. Lexa think different.”

“You’re dropping s’s again,”Mike tells him. “Knows and thinks.”

Aden shrugs. “You understand, sha? No Titus, no _grammar_.”

Mike giggles. “He’s right, without him you’d be a complete branwoda.”

“Float him.”

Murphy drops a lump of wood on Jasper’s table, nearly upsetting some very important experiments. Well, some parts of his alcohol distillery, but that’s important. Jasper looks at him pointedly. Murphy doesn’t care.

“Bellamy’s begging for it,” Murphy tells him, as though that’s news.”C’mon you can’t say you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed him preening in your direction more than usual,” Jasper allows, picking up the wood and shoving it into Murphy’s chest so he’s forced to take it. “What’s this for?”

“He doesn’t need to preen,” Murphy protests, as though that fact might be enough to stop Bellamy from doing so. “He could have anyone he wanted, ‘cept Clarke, she’d have him.”

It’s become a familiar topic, but Jasper isn’t in the mood to get drunk or high or both and complain about Bellamy’s utter indifference and obliviousness, that’s more of an evening activity. “Go show him your wood then,” Jasper says, eliciting a smirk from Murphy.

“I don’t know, I was thinking of throwing it at him instead, unless you want to?” Murphy offers. “It feels pretty hard and you’ve got a better arm.”

Monty never appreciates Jasper’s finest innuendos properly. Only reason Jasper keeps Murphy around. Okay, maybe not the only reason, but definitely one of the major ones.

“Seriously, though,” Murphy says, “Bellamy gave it to me.”

“Bellamy gave you his hard wood.” Jasper doesn’t even try to keep a straight face.

Murphy hits him with it, no real force. “Yeah, like I said, he’s begging for _something_. Told me to make a floating paddle. Don’t know why since he still hasn’t figured out he can hit me or whatever. Besides, I ain’t got caught.”

Jasper steals the lump of wood from him and hits him back, slightly harder. “Well, job done. Take the rest of the day off.”

Murphy grins, even though he’s rubbing at the spot in his chest Jasper had hit. “What he didn’t do was give me permission to use a knife. Guess it slipped his mind.”

Now Jasper’s grin matches Murphy’s. “That’s got potential. What you thinking? Fire? Acid? Teaspoon? Course you don’t have to actually make it the right shape …”

“I’m thinking Bellamy’s way too attached to the comb he uses to spread the grease evenly through his hair.”

It’s a beautiful idea. Not least because it might make Bellamy start wearing his hair curly again.

There’s one catch. “This isn’t one we can pass off on Octavia,” Jasper warns. “It’s your wood.”

Murphy considers this for a moment, then says, “She can get the comb. She confesses to that and we go down together. And, y’know, if he’s willing to punish me anyway, I’m overdue.”

Jasper hands the wood back again. “You sure? Don’t want to keep going? See how far you can get your personal best before falling off the wagon?”

“Nah, I’d like to have a chance at getting close to my best next time. Leave it too long and it’ll look impossible to last that long again.” It’s too close to actually talking about stuff for Murphy, so he quickly changes the subject. “We should find the others, see if they’ve got any suggestions.”

Jasper doesn’t ask how long Murphy’s personal best is. He’s certain he knows. Fourteen days since Murphy took Bellamy’s collar. Eight since Bellamy mended it and actually gave it to him. Twenty since Miller caned the pair of them. He seriously doubts Murphy managed that long on the Ark.

However this ends, Jasper thinks it’s about time the situation came to a head.

The Azgeda Prince nods to Wells as he pulls up his horse to walk beside Poppy.

“Hainofa Roan kom Azgeda,” Wells greets him. They are technically equals, with Wells having the slight advantage of being the main Ambassador for his kru, but the handsome scowling warrior effortlessly intimidates him.

“Bandrona Wells kom Stomkru,” Roan replies, his nod an acknowledgement of that small difference in rank.

Wells wonders what happens when two Grounders of equal status are forced to talk. From what he’s gathered of their history, bloodshed.

“I wanted to thank you,” Roan says abruptly. “Stomkru. For the Mountain. Without you – Thanks.”

Wells can’t leave it at that, not after what Azgeda did to Farm Station. Lex may have ordered no retaliation, but Wells’ type of retaliation isn’t the type Lexa meant. Probably.

“Your mother doesn’t thank us,” Wells points out, perhaps a little less diplomatic than he’d been aiming for. “Haiplana Nia could have delivered this message herself, unless she doesn’t wish to send it.”

Roan looks at Wells sideways, assessing him. “I never said I spoke for Azgeda’s Haiplana.”

“Ah, yes, the Hainofa traditionally speaks for the Haihefa?” Wells frames it as a question, as though they aren’t both painfully aware of Azgeda’s political situation.

“I can’t do that when there’s no Haihefa,” Roan points out, rather blunter.

“Then the only one you can speak for is yourself?”

“Myself and Azgeda.”

“And what does Azgeda think of Stomkru?”

This is absurd. Wells is dancing about trying to find out if Roan was against the massacre of innocent farmers and if he was Roan can’t come out and say so for fear of his mother.

Roan takes a deep breath. “That question is best answered by the question of who decides what Azgeda thinks.”

Nia.

Azgeda is against Stomkru, because their Queen is against Stomkru.

Their Prince is not.

Wells risks a question, hoping it sounds like a complete change in topic. “Has Haiplana Nia given any more thought into choosing a Hainofi?”

Roan briefly gives him that sideways assessing look again. “I wouldn’t know.”

However, Wells follows Roan’s gaze and lands on an Azgeda gona. She’s short, pretty enough, curvy, well insulated for a place named for its ice. That explains why Roan approached him at least. His time is running out as Nia’s sole heir. Either he kills his mother before she can name this gona Hainofi or he submits.

Roan doesn’t seem the type to submit.

Wells needs to know more about the gona. “Now I’m Ambassador,” he says carefully, “I think my father will need to find a new seken, a new Hainofa. I was wondering … what sort of traits should he look for?”

To his credit Roan seems to understand the real question or at least Wells hopes his answer is more about Nia’s gona. “He’ll want a good fight, someone loyal to him, but … there are plenty of those. For a seken he’ll want someone _special_ , someone like … him …” Roan nods towards Mike.

Mike?

No. His friend, Aden.

The Natblida.

Nia has a Natblida? One that Titus didn’t raise and loyal only to Nia? Wells wishes there was a way to be certain that’s what Roan is trying to tell him. For all he knows, Roan is simply complimenting Aden’s abilities.

“Mike?” Wells asks, thinking fast. “Perhaps, though I’m considering keeping him as my own seken. He’s good with – with skittish animals.”

“Skittish animals like our Heda’s seken,” Roan says with a laugh. “No, not seken, heir. He’s not Trikru, just a Natblida.”

Wells searches Roan’s expression for confirmation and Roan nods slightly on the word Natblida.

Shit. Why tell Wells? Surely that’s something for the Commander to deal with. Unless Roan’s relying on Stomkru wanting revenge for Farm Station. Perhaps he thinks Stomkru alone is more powerful than the rest of the Coalition put together. It wouldn’t be a huge leap of the imagination, the Coalition hadn’t been able to defeat the Mountain. Maybe Lexa would be less likely to keep her source secret and Roan isn’t ready to openly go against his mother and Azgeda.

Regardless, Roan had better have a plan.

Atom will happily admit that watching Clarke and Maya working together to bring the entire population of Mount Weather under their personal control is kinda scary hot. If Clarke wouldn’t crucify him for it, he’d tell her too. She’d assume that’s what he wanted.

Maya doesn’t quite seem to understand the appeal, but she’s happy enough to respond to his response. She doesn’t even mind letting him hold her down, but she doesn’t get off on it.

Over three hundred people at her feet and Maya barely notices. She’s too busy thinking of them as people to think of them as hers. Clarke, on the other hand, is on the best power trip of her life. She’s completely lost interest in her little gang. Course Clarke hasn’t worked out it’s about sex yet.

Atom doesn’t want to fuck three hundred people. He wants to fuck the person who controls three hundred people. Now that’s power.

Murphy had been good. Pff. Nah, that was the appeal, wasn’t it? Murphy’s inability to be good, to behave. When the fight was that hard it was a proper rush to get submission. Course these days, Murphy’s submission is worn pretty round his neck. He’d need to take Murphy from Bellamy and Atom doesn’t reckon that’s one he’d win neither.

And if he could win it, why settle for Murphy when he could have Murphy’s master?

Why would he settle for Murphy’s master when he could have Murphy’s master’s master?

Which led it all back to Clarke again.

Atom isn’t crazy enough to try, but _damn_.

It’s probably got something to do with childhood trauma or some shit. Wanting power over powerful people.

Clarke would float him if she knew what he was thinking.

Since she’ll never submit to him … well, least he could do is give her a chance to learn to dominate. Not him, of course, he’d be teaching her, guiding her, watching as she discovered what she _wants_.

It’s a pretty fantasy for when Maya’s concessions aren’t enough, for when thinking about Murphy feels too much like betraying Bellamy, for when he has to sit through an incredibly boring meeting. Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone that would work as the submissive in that scenario.

He considers Raven, but she’s not his type, or Clarke’s really. Too demanding. He says as though Murphy isn’t the most demanding bitch in existence. Difference there is Murphy likes it when his demands aren’t met. When all he gets is what he’s given. What Atom chose to give him. Raven actually wants her demands to be met. Service. Though she’s willing to serve too.

Murphy is only worth considering because the thought is hilarious. He’s too much of a challenge for a beginner. Despite how Clarke’s been acting, she’s got no idea what she’s doing. She’d let Murphy walk all over her and they’d both walk away unsatisfied.

From what Atom can tell, Bellamy isn’t doing any better at beating that challenge. If he didn’t think Bellamy would punch him for suggesting it, he’d offer to lend a hand.

… Bellamy might work for Clarke’s first time.

They’ve got an established dynamic. He wears her collar. Only he’d never submit to Atom. Too much time with Atom as his lieutenant. Hell, if there was anyone, like if Atom absolutely had to, a submit or die kinda situation, it’d be Bellamy.

Maya pinches Atom’s thigh under the table and he jumps back into the moment. She smiles at him, taking the sting out of it, she knows meetings are boring and she’s this close to drifting off herself.

From the other side of Maya, Clarke gives Atom a warning glare that he wants to slap off her face. Instead he smiles blandly at the pair of them and pretends to focus on the incredibly boring gentleman talking about whatever he’s talking about.

Where was he?

Atom’s eyes glaze over again before Clarke has even finished glaring at him. If he were hers, she’d have stopped the meeting by now, taken him outside for a private word. See how well he concentrated with a little pain as motivation. She’d test him once the meeting was over. One stroke for every wrong answer.

If he was hers. He’s the only one left who isn’t.

Obviously there’s her kru and the people of Mount Weather are very aware that she holds their lives in her hands, but even those who’d been Atom’s back at the dropship have accepted her. Shoana and Monroe hadn’t wasted any time settling into a similar situation to Harper, avoiding challenging Clarke. Jacob had followed Monroe’s lead. The only one Clarke would hesitate to punish, should she think it was deserved, is Charlotte and that’s entirely based on the girl’s age.

Even those who had left had done so under Clarke’s orders.

She doesn’t think about Finn.

Mbege had even asked her, Clarke not Atom, to try and keep Murphy out of trouble, then laughed and amended it to not going too hard on him when he does.

Atom though. Atom’s Maya’s. Maya is sort of Clarke’s. By that hierarchy Clarke should have control of Atom, but … Maya is the issue, she’s oblivious to the power thing. Sure she’s been a great help in taking control of situations before passing them off to Clarke to solve, but she treats everyone as an equal. Atom doesn’t defer to Maya.

Clarke’s pretty sure they’re sleeping together, which … she’d thought Maya and Jasper had a thing and that Atom was still holding a torch for Murphy, but no one’s fighting so she doesn’t much care. She’s seen Jasper and Maya laughing together without any sign of awkwardness and half wishes she could be as carefree. Clarke hasn’t as much as spoken to Raven since Finn left.

But the problem here is Atom. Clarke needs him to submit to her. She doesn’t analyse the reasons behind that need too closely, it’s enough that he’d challenged her by taking his own kru out of the Delinquents. But Clarke feels it’s Maya’s responsibility and Maya’s too _normal_. Clarke can’t ask if it’s okay for her to beat her boyfriend.

No matter how much she wants to.

Atom’s looking at her again. Smug bastard knows Clarke can’t lay a finger on him. He reminds her of Murphy who’d been a complete nightmare until she’d had Miller cane him. Aside from his brief desertion, which Atom had been responsible for, Murphy’s been manageable ever since. Atom isn’t quite as direct, his challenges come in the form of judgemental gazes, subtle little insults and outright ignoring her.

He smiles lazily at her and Clarke looks away quickly, then back again when she realises that might make her seem intimidated. The bastard quirks and eyebrow at her and winks. Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing and he must know he’s all but daring her to do something about it.

Wait. Is he flirting with her? All Clarke knows about Atom’s tastes is that he’s dated Maya and Murphy which is an _interesting_ combination. Murphy denies nothing when accused of being into weird stuff or at least he always blames Atom. Clarke had just assumed … well, given how Murphy acts … she’d assumed he was …

Raven had said Murphy was a sub. Which meant, presumably, Atom was the opposite, whatever that’s called.

But, then again, it hadn’t actually worked out with Murphy and now he’s dating Maya and Clarke has no illusions about where she herself falls on this scale and Maya seems to take power as instinctively as Clarke and …

Only Maya doesn’t … she can’t, she’s all -

Maya is the normal one here.

It’s Atom that’s trying to – to corrupt her or something.

Clarke has no idea. It’s not like Murphy wants to have sex with Clarke. Probably. Hopefully.

It’s not about sex anyway. It’s about Clarke needing to know that all the Arkers currently in and on Mount Weather will work as a single unit under her control.

At minimum she needs to talk to Atom. Needs him to accept her authority.

After the meeting.

Sometimes Maya suspects the amount of time she spends in pointless meetings would be better spent thinking about literally anything else.

This is the sixth complaint about Raven’s work, which is going to continue no matter how long this engineer complains about it. Raven knows what she’s doing. She’s not going to accidentally kill them all.

Besides there’s nothing Maya can do about Raven’s resistance to accepting help. Perhaps Clarke could, but she’s proved unwilling.

Maya wonders what Atom and Clarke are thinking about, it’s obvious neither is paying attention. Oh well, she trusts that it’s important or at least more important then the actual meeting, which isn’t difficult.

Miller hugs his dad and for a moment everything is okay again, in a way it hasn’t been since he was arrested.

Then Jones claps him on the shoulder and his expression is – Jones doesn’t do expressions, but he’s doing one now. Miller doesn’t need to ask, Jones reports unprompted.

It’s bad.

That doesn’t even begin to cover it, but it’s all Miller’s got.

Jones says something comforting about Bryan and Miller’s confused. Later he’ll cry, mourn the boy he loved, but for now there’s nothing he can do about it and he has other concerns. There has to be something he can do to save Mount Weather.

Neither Jones nor his father understand why he would even want to try. Abby and Wells aren’t trying. Miller was fighting a war against Mount Weather less than a week ago. Miller had disobeyed a direct order in order to fight in that war. Miller must want justice.

“I’ve always had a problem with your definition of justice, sir,” Miller tells his dad. It’s the sort of smart comment that would have got him in trouble on the Ark. It’s what he said to Kane the second time he’d been questioned. His dad had laughed then. He’d even claimed Kane himself found it funny.

He doesn’t laugh this time.

“Why me?” Wells asks Roan.

They’re in the closest thing they can get to privacy: Roan’s tent, but even here they can’t speak completely openly. Wells thinks Roan has invited him here to talk further. He knows the rest of the camp think Roan has invited him here for sex. He doesn’t know what Roan thinks.

Roan tilts his head. “Sorry?”

“Azgeda has no shortage of enemies. You want someone who’ll piss off your mother, there’s plenty of other options to invite back to your tent. I’m new, not even part of the Coalition yet.”

Roan doesn’t answer directly. “You remind me of someone,” he says vaguely, tilting a jug of some sort of alcohol in Wells’ direction as an offer.

Wells shakes his head, his father had always cautioned against anything that might impair his mind when dealing with politics. Roan shrugs and pours himself a cup. Apparently Nia either hadn’t bothered with that lesson or he doesn’t care. Wells suspects the latter.

“Not gonna ask me who I mean?” Roan asks before downing half the cup in one.

“I assumed you were referring to yourself.”

Roan laughs, a self depreciating little chuckle. “Not that much of a narcissist, no matter what my mother says. No, the man I meant … he’s … haven’t known him long, but …” Roan’s stare is disconcerting. This isn’t casual talk, it’s something important, like how he’d told Wells about the Natblida.

Whoever it is, Roan is trying to tell Wells something about them.

“He’s a friend,” Roan admits in the tone of one who uses ‘friend’ to mean ‘ally for now’.

“How do I remind you of him?” Wells asks.

“The bastard could talk circles around you, for one thing.” It’s not exactly a compliment.

Wells has no idea who Roan is talking about, for all he knows it’s not even someone he knows.

Roan sighs and gives up. “Marcus Kane. He told me about you and I trust him enough to trust you.”

There are Farm Station survivors or at least one.

“Stomkru don’t want war with Azgeda,” Wells tells him seriously. “If any survivors are returned, unhurt, it would be a step towards reconciling our peoples.”

“It’s too late for unhurt. Nia has them working to get the harvest in before winter. Once winter starts, though, they won’t benefit from that work. The lucky ones will starve or freeze to death.” He doesn’t say what will happen to the unlucky ones.

“If we were the kind of people to seek revenge, we would never have accepted the Mountain’s surrender,” Wells points out. It’s inaccurate, that acceptance of peace had all been Clarke. “I understand Azgeda don’t have the food to spare for outsiders, but why can’t they be returned once -” He doesn’t bother to finish the question, not when he knows the answer. Nia has already lied and told them Farm Station is dead.

“If another kru had done that to her people, Nia would destroy them,” Roan says simply. “Even Heda Lexa couldn’t have held her back. She’s -”

“I didn’t come here to talk politics,” Wells lies. Their conversation is dangerous enough as it is without Roan expressing his feelings about his mother honestly. “And it’s not my place to decide what to do with this information.” Again, not true, he’s already decided and knows he can get his father and Abby to act on his wishes.

Roan raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing him.

“Give me something solid,” Wells demands. If Roan can offer the safe return of any survivors then he has more to offer Stomkru specifically than just anyone who might hate Nia.

Roan leans close to him, voice a low rumble that could make anything sound like a proposition. “Nia’s Natblida. She means trouble for the Coalition. Trouble you could get Heda Lexa out of. The Coalition owes Stomkru plenty already.”

“You’re right. Stomkru is owed plenty, we don’t need the Coalition more in our debt.”

“You need Lexa leading the Coalition,” Roan counters. “And I need myself and Azgeda out of trouble with the Coalition.”

“I can’t promise not to get you in trouble,” Wells says flippantly.

Roan grins, pure predator. “Kane didn’t warn me you were _cute_.”

Huh?

Clarke goes to Harper for help. Who else? Harper’s discreet and she’s never judged or questioned Clarke’s odder requests before.

This time though she looks disproving. Clarke hadn’t mentioned any names, but Harper says right before leaving, “Once you’ve finished playing with Atom, you might want to remember your kru.”

Clarke has no idea what Harper’s talking about and that worries her. As far as she knows there haven’t been any issues, Miller would have – no, Miller left. Jasper then or Harper. Except Harper just told her something and Jasper’s been managing alone long enough he might not think to go to Clarke …

Shit.

She’s still got no idea what’s wrong, if anything, and is a little angry at Harper for questioning her priorities. No one’s been injured and nothing’s on fire, as far as Clarke’s concerned that’s ideal. She has other responsibilities, can’t spend all her time holding her kru’s hands.

Except. Those responsibilities. They’re not Clarke’s. They’re Maya’s. Maya has been very accommodating. Perhaps too much so. Clarke isn’t President of Mount Weather, she’s Hainofi of her little kru.

This is Atom’s fault.

His choice to stay at Maya’s side has confused Clarke on where her people are. Aside from Raven, still a sore subject, all the Delinquents inside the Mountain are Atom’s. What Clarke should have been doing is pulling them out, not following them in. Only Atom had been there and he’d been acting like Maya’s advisor and Clarke couldn’t let him be the first point of contact between Delinquent and Mountain.

He’d lured her into the place where he was one half of Atom and Vie, saviours, and Clarke was the invader, the conqueror, the jailer. Outside she’s Hainofi and he’s the idiot they all had to rescue, but inside she’s forced to meet Atom on equal terms.

Hainofi doesn’t do equal terms.

He shows up, at least, exactly five minutes after the time she gave him. He doesn’t give her an excuse or an apology. He gets it the moment he sees the strap on the table.

“Sorry, Griffin,” Atom says, not sounding even slightly sorry. “I know it’s yours, but not my idea of a good time. Unless you want me to use it.”

Clarke isn’t sure if the reason she’s gone red is embarrassment or anger. “It’s not supposed to be a good time! It’s supposed to be punishment!”

“For what?” he drawls. “What have I done to deserve it?”

She thought this was what he wanted. Except, no, this is like Murphy. Can’t admit it. Just because Murphy hasn’t outright refused …

Atom hasn’t told her no. Not in as many words.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Hainofi orders.

He grins. “Is it ‘cause I don’t kiss your ass? Because I’m not kneeling for you.”

Clarke considers lying.

“Yes,” Hainofi says without any input from Clarke’s common sense.

“I won’t. For the same reason you’d never kneel for me.”

She’s taken aback by that. It’s not like she’s not got people she’d consider ‘dominant’ in her kru. There’s Raven for one, though Clarke had messed that up royally. There’s Miller, though Clarke had sent him away. There’s Bellamy, if it’s possible Clarke believes he might be both.

“One of us has to kneel,” Clarke says. She thinks it’s true.

“Yeah,” Atom agrees. “And we’re both thinking _it’s not going to be me_. Remember Wells and Bellamy? Oh, that’s right, you weren’t around for most of that. You saw how it ended, got proper ugly. That’s what happens when no one backs down.”

“Are you threatening me?!”

He snorts. “I’m challenging you. Even being nice ‘cause you don’t know what you’re doing and letting you pick the weapons. I’d win a physical fight, you’d win with smarts. I don’t reckon you’re the type to go for the easy win or the loss.”

“What?” This is completely insane. It’s oddly tempting though, Clarke knows she’d win. “You want to challenge me to something like chess and the winner gets to be in charge?”

“Something like that. Not chess though, I don’t know the rules.”

“You know the rules to this whole dominance submission thing,” Clarke says. “At least you knew chess existed.”

That makes him laugh. “Be willing to teach you,” he offers. “Course that would mean you taking a few of my orders …”

Clarke glares at him. “Who taught you?”

Atom shakes his head. “This shithole of a world. Learned real quick I wasn’t okay with taking orders, rest came from there. That and running with a gang back on the Ark.”

That’s a point. “You took orders from Bellamy,” she points out. “Murphy led that gang.”

“Murphy kept me around because he liked what I was willing to do to him and keep my mouth shut about.”

She won’t let him get away with avoiding half the question like that. “And Bellamy?”

“Wanted something from him,” Atom says reluctantly.

Clarke has no idea what that could be. She doesn’t ask. She doesn’t particularly care.

“Something I don’t need from him any more,” Atom adds. “So don’t think you can use Bellamy or Murphy against me. They made their choice.”

“They chose me,” Clarke says, unnecessarily.

Atom shrugs one shoulder. “They chose you to punish them, not ‘cause they like or trust you. I’ll admit, you’re good at getting them to follow you, but you ain’t so good at what comes after.”

She’s about to argue when the thought of Finn and Raven stops her.

He takes her silence as agreement. “You had the same problem with the Delinquents, you’re too distant. Wouldn’t kill you to let us know you’re human. Fucking Collins, that actually helped. Only Wells believed in his perfect princess, the rest of us wanted someone real. You swan around like your shit don’t stink and expect us to kneel whenever you bother to pay attention.”

She’s less willing to accept that. Especially since Wells had had that belief thoroughly destroyed. “I haven’t heard anyone else complaining.”

“That’s ‘cause they’re too scared to,” Atom claims, she’s not sure she believes him.

“Why aren’t you scared then?”

“You ain’t a conqueror or a judge or whatever. I paid attention. You’re a doctor.” He says this last as though it’s some sort of insult.

Clarke frowns, she’s not sure what the relevance of that is.

“You’ve been approaching it all wrong,” Atom tells her seriously, not as mocking as before. “You gotta play to your strengths, right? You should be looking after them, taking care of them, not trying to control them.”

“Take Murphy,” he continues. “He’s damn good at figuring out that side of things, what people want and need. What he’s shit at is doing anything with that knowledge beyond tearing them down. It’s how he got Bellamy to surrender. Don’t know the details, of course, but I reckon it was about Octavia. Heard from Harper that when Jackson and Raven came down they told her and Murphy that you, Monty and Octavia were dead.

“Knowing that and knowing Bellamy’s needs, well, taking away any chance at a need, sure, that destroys someone, but they usually choose to stop living. Less they got more than one, then they go after that twice as hard. In the state he was in at the time, Bellamy woulda killed Murphy for destroying his hope.

“There’s another explanation. Fulfilling a need, depends what it is, but they stop fighting for it. Surrender. Like Mount Weather did when you gave them a cure.”

“Bellamy wanted Octavia dead?” Clarke asks, completely lost.

“Safe,” Atom corrects her. “Ain’t much you can do to hurt the dead. Don’t need to fight and kill to protect the dead.”

It makes a kind of sense, but Clarke still isn’t sure what point he’s making.

“Thing is, Murphy wasn’t trying to help Bellamy and now he feels so guilty about it he’s all but begging Bellamy to hurt him. Bellamy’s got some impressive willpower, not taking what’s on offer. That ain’t gonna last and when he does, you’re gonna be the one patching Murphy up. Up to you if that’s physically or mentally. Least you know how to do the first one.”

Clarke can’t see a way in which she’d be responsible for what Bellamy and Murphy do and tells Atom as much.

He seems to find that amusing. “You telling me that even if you’d been around for Wells and Bellamy’s fight things would’ve gone exactly the same?” Atom leans in towards her. “You think you have the right to interfere in _everything_. Maya doesn’t need you running Mount Weather. I don’t need you breathing down the back of my neck every time I turn around. Go play with your kru, they might not need you either, but they want you around for some reason.”

Hainofi wants to tear him down, force him to his knees and … and what? Leave him there? Only pay him any attention when he causes enough trouble that she can’t keep ignoring him?

That’s what she’s done before now.

Then she’d moved on to the next person who needed tearing down.

She’d focused so much attention on Atom, because she didn’t own him yet. She couldn’t just let him go. The only ways she knows to satisfy Hainofi are taking new people and knocking her own back into line when they mess up spectacularly enough she can’t ignore it. She’d gone into this room under the impression she was dealing with another Murphy only to find another her.

There’s aspects of this game Clarke knows better. Politics for one. It’s possible she’s done better at it than him even. He’s not the one who won a war.

But there’s other parts that are an utter mystery.

“Okay,” Clarke says, feeling like she’ll regret it later. “Teach me.”

Miller is surprised by how much support he gets. Sure he’s a ‘returning hero’, but he’s Clarke’s returning hero and she hadn’t been overly popular. Still, the Delinquents rally around the cause of not committing genocide.

Bree and Roma are the first to approach him. He likes Roma, they’d been Lieutenants together under Bellamy and then Wells. She’s got a direct, no-nonsense approach he appreciates. Miller doesn’t know Bree as well, which he suspects is deliberate on their part. She’s twistier.

They’re against the executions, which is a point in their favour, and they seem to be leading the Delinquents, which is a point against. They don’t want a leader, they want a figurehead. Miller doesn’t mind taking that role. He’s no Hainofi, just as long as he’s not purely decorative he tends not to mind who’s calling the shots.

Unless he fundamentally disagrees with them. Like he does with Abigail Griffin. Like he does with Thelonious Jaha. Like he had with Marcus Kane.

Roma provides Miller with a team of Delinquents. It’s a good team, one he’d have chosen himself, though he wishes Jones was with him on this. Surprisingly, Mbege takes Jones’ place.

“Just ‘cause I’m not willing to get tortured for them, don’t mean I want them all dead,” he explains with a shrug.

Miller hadn’t asked. Mbege is a natural second in command, like Miller himself. Miller suspects Mbege’s choice is more to do with wanting somewhere to belong than the desire to save the Maunon.

The others Miller brought from the Mountain are split. Finn and Connor walk away, condemning three hundred or so people for their anger at Clarke. Miller tries not to hate them for it. Lisa and Myles volunteer to help. Neither is quite the right person for the job, Miller’s trying to get positive attention for his cause. All Lisa and Myles can manage is attention. He won’t deny them a place at his side though.

The rest he knows and has worked with before, as Guards or Hunters or Scouts.

Two Scouts, Jill and Diggs. They’re perfect. Jill’s another direct, no-nonsense person, like Miller, with a talent for organisation. The Delinquents listen to what she has to say, because she’s sensible and can be trusted to have their interests at heart. Diggs is laid back, makes friends easily. This is the first time Miller has seen him intense.

One Guard, besides Myles. Derek. His part is that of the average Delinquent. You want to know what everyone else is thinking, you ask Derek. He follows the crowd and the crowd are following Miller.

One Hunter. Drew. Takes himself way too seriously, but this is a serious matter. He balances out Myles’ unrelenting optimistic enthusiasm.

Miller knows he’s not running this show, no matter how it might look to those outside Bree and Roma’s inner circle. He doesn’t mind, he’s Setneshona, not Hainofi. Support.

Atom insists on Clarke facing her kru.

She’d expected them to come to her, glad to see her, proving Atom’s assessment of Hainofi’s popularity wrong. Instead Octavia and Murphy remain on the other side of the campsite, whispering furiously in an argument that ends with a quick round of rock, paper, scissors. Murphy wins and Octavia vanishes into one of the tents, emerging a second later with Monty, Jasper and Shoana.

Atom leads Clarke to sit on one of the fallen logs around their campfire.

“No Bellamy?” she asks.

He shrugs. “Reckon he don’t want to talk to you. Which of them you think’s gonna risk it?”

“Risk?” Clarke asks, offended.

“My money’s on Jasper or Murphy.” Atom ignores her offence.

“Murphy,” Clarke says with certainty. “Jasper’s brave, but Murphy’s suicidal.”

Atom raises an eyebrow. “They got some reason to be scared, Princess? Planning on killing him?”

“You know what I mean. They’re hiding something. Jasper’s smart enough to hold back, but Murphy would rather dangle it in front of us, then be surprised we take the bait.”

“Hiding what?”

Clarke shrugs. “Harper mentioned there was something, but no details.”

Jasper points back at the tent, glaring Murphy down. Clarke could have told him that was the best way to get Murphy to do the opposite.

Sure enough, Murphy heads their way, brushing Jasper’s hand off his arm.

“Oh good, Murphy’s easy,” Atom says loudly by way of greeting.

“Not been called that recently,” Murphy replies. “What d’you think, Hainofi? Am I easy?” There’s a leer that come with the question that Clarke aggressively ignores.

Instead she focuses on forming an answer. Murphy isn’t subtle, but that’s not the same as easy. Even when he sounds sarcastic he tends to tell the truth. Clarke can’t think of a time he’s directly lied to her, though she’s assumed he had and been proven wrong a few times. He might not answer directly, but he won’t deceive her. And he knows what he wants well enough to bargain with.

“Yes, I think you are,” Clarke tells him and a spark lights up in Murphy’s eye.

At least one of them is having fun.

“So, what brings Hainofi down among her people again?” Murphy asks. “Here to stay or is this just checking we’ve all made our beds and brushed our teeth?”

It stings and Clarke immediately reconsiders her assessment of Murphy as easy. He’s put her on the defensive and she doesn’t know how to respond. All she wants right now is her people back, to know she hasn’t lost any more than Finn and Wells.

Murphy had picked at that wound. Clarke had been thinking of Murphy as solidly hers, but it’d be more accurate to say that she had spoiled his games with others. They’ve never gone toe to toe without Clarke having the advantage of numbers. Not that that had ever made Murphy pause. He’s relentless.

He’s also avoided directly challenging Clarke.

He’d decided to kneel instead. Given her Bellamy. Kept the game going, even though he’d won. Except Murphy doesn’t play to win, Raven had tried to explain that one. Murphy plays for submission and his main opponent is himself, because he doesn’t go down without a fight.

“Atom’s teaching me about looking after my kru,” Clarke informs him coldly.

Both Atom and Murphy laugh at that.

“Couldn’t convince her to fuck it out?” Murphy asks Atom.

“Course not,” Atom says. “Princess is all about the foreplay.”

Clarke ignores him. If she could ignore Murphy as well she would. Instead she asks him, “Why aren’t the others coming over?”

Murphy smirks like she’s told a joke. “Ask Bellamy.”

“I asked you,” Clarke says, only realising after it’s out of her mouth that she sounds like her mother.

“Did you think we’d all get along like a happy family without you breathing down our necks? Remind me how it went when you left Wells and Bellamy to compete over the Delinquents.”

“You played your part in that mess,” Clarke reminds him frostily.

Murphy shrugs with his entire body. “I gave them a mutual enemy to work together against, even got them working together. Not my fault Bellamy got a little murderous.”

It doesn’t fit the version of events Wells had told her, but she’s willing to believe that that’s how Murphy saw it at the time.

“So, if you haven’t been a _happy family_ , what have you been?” Clarke puts the derision it deserves into the phrase.

He rolls his eyes at her. “Bellamy’s worst nightmare, mostly. Should’ve given Jasper something to do, all that creative energy with no outlet … it’s what landed him and Monty in the Skybox in the first place.”

It’s something of a relief to Clarke when Atom looks just as blind-sided by that as she feels. Before either of them can demand further explanation, a heavy drop of rain falls on Clarke’s forehead, dripping down into her eye. She wipes it away with the back of her sleeve, but it’s followed by thousands more.

The three of them bolt for the nearest tent, boots slipping in the rapidly forming mud. Clarke, the least athletic, almost falls, but a hand catches her upper arm. She’s halfway through thanking Atom when she looks up to find Murphy looking at her with an unreadable expression. His hand stays on her arm until she tugs slightly, then he lets go like he’s been burned.

Whatever he sees in her expression seems to amuse him, however, and with a faint, smug smile he turns to where Atom is holding the tent open for them.

“Wanted to offer my condolences,” Finn says, standing about an arm’s length away from where Miller’s sitting. “I heard about Bryan.”

Miller nods once in acknowledgement. If that’s all Finn wants there’s no problem. He doubts that’s all Finn wants.

Sure enough Finn takes half a step closer. “And that Jackson’s staying in Polis. I mean, that’s better than – if it’s where he’s needed, but I bet you wanted to see him.”

“What do you want, Collins?” Miller asks, he hasn’t got the patience for Finn’s bullshit. He never has. Half truths and dancing around the real topic are a waste of everyone’s time in his opinion.

Finn looks slightly offended. He hasn’t had much experience with people openly disliking him. It’s probably good for him. Character building or something.

“Either sit and tell me in nice, short, simple words or float off,” Miller tells him. “Some of us have actual responsibilities.”

Finn sits as though someone cut his legs out from under him, but doesn’t say anything.

Urgh.

Nope.

Miller isn’t doing this. He’s not making Collins his problem.

Sure he’d let Myles and Lisa become his problems, but Collins is worse than the pair of them put together.

Only.

People do like Collins, he’d be useful and Miller could keep an eye on him. Give Finn a chance at getting back into Clarke and Raven’s good graces.

Miller doesn’t make a decision or even indicate that he’s considering helping. He’ll wait to see what Finn asks for. Instead, he goes back to cleaning the mud off his boots. The same mud Finn is now sitting in because Miller had told him to.

Idiot.

There’s plenty of metal or plastic scraps repurposed as seating around the firepit. Miller almost says something, but, no, that’s Finn’s choice and Finn’s problem.

“I could do that,” Finn volunteers.

Miller has to have a serious debate with himself about throwing a boot at Finn’s head before he can respond. “I don’t want you to,” Miller says eventually. “Honestly, I don’t want anything from you. Kinda want you to leave me alone, but I got no right to kick you out of a public space or to give you orders. I don’t want -” He deliberately avoids the word Raven always used. “- a servant. No, don’t start telling me how good you’d be, I know you’re good or at least you can be good when you choose. I don’t want you.”

Finn actually pouts. “Because you’d rather have Murphy, only Bellamy beat you to him.”

If that’s what Finn really thinks the bitchiness is deliberate.

“I don’t want Murphy either,” Miller tells him with as much emphasis as that absurd suggestion deserves. “He’s too much like work. I’ve just lost Bryan and the only person I might want to replace him is hiding in Polis from who even knows what. So go find someone else to con.”

Finn’s eyes start watering on cue.

The cynical side of Miller wonders if he should just hit him. It would have been the expected move in the Skybox. But in the Skybox Miller would never have turned down an alliance of any type with the Spacewalker.

This isn’t the Skybox.

Neither of them want the same things that were essential to survival back then. Finn just wants some attention and, given he’s gone to Miller for it, he isn’t looking for affection. And if Finn gets that attention, he’s going to keep coming back.

Miller just needs to find Finn an alternative source. He even knows where to go. And if they won’t take him, Bree and Roma will definitely know someone who will.

If anyone can teach Finn patience, it’ll be them.


	2. Bomb Snob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back.
> 
> Last time I posted was before 2020 so there have been some major delays caused by corona and trying to finish my uni degree.
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe and best wishes.
> 
> Things are going to start diverging more and more from the first version of book two from here on. I stopped watching early season 6, so anything after that is going to be ignored. Not that I'm paying attention to everything before that either.
> 
> Canon is a pizza with every possible topping and I'm picking off the bits I like to eat because I'm not a fan of the bread.

Kath and Lincoln spring a surprisingly well-executed ambush. Lincoln had drawn his horse level with Wells on one side some time before Kath joined them. Wells hadn’t spared Lincoln much thought and the Grounder’s silence had let him fade into the background quickly. Kath rides up on the opposite side with a scowl that inspires Wells to turn his horse in an attempt to evade, only to find Lincoln blocking his retreat.

Bastard.

Kath is furious. “What happened to not drawing attention and _keeping our heads down_?”

“So, this is you warning me before the poison?” Wells quips more lightly than either he or Kath feels appropriate.

For a split second her expression makes him think Clarke has possessed Kath for the sole purpose of lecturing him. “Was that supposed to be funny?!”

Wells shakes his head to clear it. She’s a lot less cold than Clarke.

Lincoln in comparison feels like an iceberg at his back.

And if Wells felt they had any right to judge him that might matter.

“Wells? What were you thinking?” Kath asks when it seems he isn’t going to volunteer any more information.

He winces at her tone and definitely not because he’s having trouble answering. That’s just because he can’t tell them the truth in front of the entire procession.

“I was thinking …” Wells starts slowly. “You and Artigas …”

“Me and Artigas aren’t the Princes of two nations at war!” Kath snarls.

“Stomkru and Azgeda are not at war,” Wells reminds her, a note of warning in his voice. “And I intend for that to continue. If that requires _getting into bed_ with Roan … I’m not complaining or unwilling.” He’s hoping she picks up on the emphasis. It seems likely the phrase isn’t used by the Grounders and that the dual meaning will be lost on them, that they’ll take it completely literally.

“Kath,” Lincoln says in a tone that makes Wells’ spine feel like it’s been submerged in ice, though Kath seems unaffected. “We should talk with our Ambassador in private.”

It should be a relief. An indication that at least one of Wells’ people trusts him enough to pick up that there’s more to the story. Instead all Wells can think about is how much stronger Lincoln is than Clarke. He just hopes he isn’t about to learn exactly how hard Lincoln can hit.

The tent is already occupied by Jasper, Monty and Octavia, leaving it overcrowded when Clarke, Murphy and Atom join them. Clarke isn’t entirely sure whose tent it is. Atom picks Jasper’s goggles and Octavia’s jacket off the bed and dumps them on a plastic camping table, then sits on the oversized bed, still booted feet smearing mud on the blankets.

Monty is the only one who seems to care, giving Atom a glare he utterly ignores. Jasper and Octavia are too busy scowling sullenly at Murphy and Clarke in turn.

Murphy shoves Atom’s legs aside in order to clear a space to sit cross-legged on the bed. He at least kicks his boots off first. “I didn’t tell her nothing,” Murphy claims, raising his hands in surrender when Jasper transfers his glare to him.

Clarke bites back the urge to correct his grammar. She’d be correcting it to a lie anyway. Murphy had told her very little, but more than enough.

“Jasper,” Clarke says, getting a sheepish grin in return.

Before she can form a question or Jasper can reply, Harper slips through the entrance to the tent, hair dripping. Monty hands her a towel and she nods in thanks.

“Bellamy and Shoana are on their way,” Harper reports.

Clarke doesn’t like the idea of the tent getting even more crowded but judging by their expressions Murphy and Jasper are even less thrilled. Octavia just looks angry.

“It was just -” Jasper starts, only to be cut off.

“You don’t have to tell her anything,” Octavia tells Jasper loudly. “It’s none of her business.”

Jasper only wavers for a second, then with a what-the-hell shrug he tells Clarke, “You heard her. Curiosity killed the cat.”

Clarke is torn between pride at his loyalty to Octavia and annoyance that he’d dare to defy her.

“Jasper, don’t make it worse,” Murphy says as though he’s ever taken that advice in his entire life.

“Don’t make what worse?” Jasper asks. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“She knows there’s something to know,” Murphy counters.

Jasper rolls his eyes at Murphy. “Look, either Bellamy talks, or Harper does, but it ain’t going to be one of us, ‘kay? Like Tavi said, none of Clarke’s business.”

Hainofi really doesn’t like that. Not that Clarke’s a fan either. Her voice goes sharp and cold. “It _might_ go easier for you if I hear your side.”

Even Monty and Atom snort at that. She’d forgotten they had built their defences in the cold forge of the Skybox. Those who told tales to the guards, those who betrayed their partners in crime, those were the kids that didn’t survive. The ones that never reached eighteen and their second chance or death sentence.

She wishes Miller was here.

Not Wells – he’d never quite understood the need for discipline. Not Maya – she was too civilised. Not Finn –

Not Finn.

Maybe Raven.

All Clarke has on her side is Harper and an uneasy alliance with Atom.

Bellamy chivalrously holds the tent flap open for Shoana. She looks at him suspiciously before joining Monty off to the side. Clarke hadn’t paid much attention to Shoana before this, just a vague impression of freckles, quick flurries of movement split by long stillnesses and brown, soil-dark hair. On closer inspection the freckles prove to be tiny burn scars, electrical at Clarke’s guess. If it wasn’t for the way her sharp quick movements drew the eye, she’d be nearly as good as Harper at fading into the background.

The last time Clarke had seen Bellamy he’d had his hair slicked back with product provided by the Mountain Men. He’s still using it, but the rain has washed his hair even curlier than it usually is without. It is, she thinks, quite unfair of him.

Harper nudges Clarke, since Jasper, Murphy and Atom seem similarly affected and unlikely to snap out of it without intervention.

Clarke turns to Bellamy, arms crossed. “Well?” she demands.

All she gets in response is a look of panicked confusion, followed by a silent plea towards Octavia, who shrugs one shoulder back. If Clarke hadn’t been looking in the same direction she wouldn’t have noticed Monty mouthing _sorry_. She can’t tell if it’s directed at her or Bellamy though.

“Harper? Monty?” Clarke asks next. “Shoana?”

Shoana half opens her mouth, but Monty puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her quietly, “Let Jasper and Octavia deal with this one.”

Faced with this majority vote against telling Clarke anything, Harper hesitates.

That’s when Atom makes a move.

He’s up on his feet faster than anyone, except Bellamy, can react to. Shoana is closer to Atom, so he gets there while Bellamy is still calculating his trajectory. Atom slings a friendly arm around Shoana’s shoulders, knocking Monty’s hand away.

“Now, sweetie,” Atom says in a tone that makes Clarke want to slap him even if it isn’t directed at her. “You’ve fallen in with the wrong crowd here, huh. Calm, now, I ain’t mad. Hell, I’m the wrong crowd myself, but you shoulda stuck with Monroe and Jacob. You ain’t one of Clarke’s, are ya?”

Shoana shakes her head, hair falling over her face to hide behind.

“Who d’you belong to?” Atom asks, almost kindly.

 _No, mine._ Hainofi tells Clarke who pinches herself sharply, losing the few seconds chance to intervene.

Bellamy looks even more confused, Jasper rolls his eyes, Murphy grins like it’s the best entertainment he’s ever seen.

“You,” Shoana tells Atom with visible reluctance.

Atom laughs and pokes her in the side. “Nope. ‘Less you’re into that, no one’s got a claim on you. Murphy and Bellamy, they made some dumb choices. Octavia, Jasper, Monty, they owe Clarke their lives. But you, you don’t gotta be part of this.” He directs Shoana towards the tent entrance, putting his body between her and Clarke. “Go on, get outta here.”

Shoana glances back at Jasper who gives her a thumbs up, then she bolts.

“Coward,” Octavia mutters loudly. Everyone else pretends she didn’t.

Atom turns to Clarke with an insubordinate air. “Princess, you once told the Grounders you’d give yourself up for Bellamy, Finn and Murphy.” He leans in, making her instinctively sway back. “Then they took Murphy anyway. You gave him to them.”

Judging by their expressions, this is the first Jasper, Monty and Octavia are hearing of it.

“Leave it,” Murphy snaps at the whole group.

Clarke is furious. Not just that Atom is undermining her authority by denying her Shoana, not just that he’d twisted her actions to make her seem like the bad guy, not even that he’d tried to sow discord between her and her kru. Of course, those things don’t help her mood, but what really gets to her is the way Murphy is acting like Atom’s interpretation is true. Like the exile wasn’t by choice, wasn’t mostly self-imposed. Like he didn’t deserve it. Like he hadn’t had fun playing with his Grounder friends.

Murphy had only come back because he was too much of a coward to fight in their war.

Clarke’s version of that war had involved a lot less danger. Not that any of them had known that when –

No. Not relevant.

Murphy’s a coward who had run from the Delinquents when there had been the slightest chance he might experience a consequence, then run right back to them when there was a chance he might have to fight to defend those who had given him an undeserved second chance. And that didn’t even cover the way he’d betrayed her for Atom, then abandoned Atom’s kru when they needed him.

“Murphy chose,” Clarke tells them flatly. “Just as Bellamy got to.” She turns away from Murphy and Atom to focus her attention on Bellamy. “Show me your arm.”

For some reason Jasper is the one to wince at that.

“Your tally,” Clarke clarifies when Bellamy looks confused.

He calmly rolls up his sleeve, then tucks his other arm behind his back in half an Arker Guard at ease. There’s a lot less tally marks than she had expected and now that she thinks of it, she notices he isn’t wearing his collar.

She’d tasked Jasper with keeping track.

That explains his wince.

“Jasper?” Clarke asks.

It’s Bellamy that answers. “I haven’t – this is all I’ve managed.”

Jasper shrugs awkwardly. “I didn’t ask why he stopped wearing – y’know.”

Clarke suspects he knew anyway. “Either of you should have come to me if you had concerns.”

That’s when they hear a single gunshot over the rain drumming on the tent canvas.

To Wells’ relief, all Lincoln does once they’re alone is offer him a piece of paper.

Mike really should be with them, but he’s glued tight to Aden’s side and there’s plenty of reasons Wells doesn’t want Heda Lexa’s heir getting too curious. Besides he doubts Mike would be able to keep his mouth shut around his Natblida friend.

He’ll burn the paper later, but for now he can be confident there’s no eavesdroppers. It won’t be a good idea for Roan, too easy for either of them to keep it as proof. Besides judging by Lincoln’s spelling ability Grounders are barely literate. Then again, that might just be Lincoln.

Wells fails to consider that Lincoln is working from Trigedasleng rules.

Once Wells has scribbled a quick outline of the situation, Kath and Lincoln consider it for longer than he’s comfortable with.

“So, you and him …?” Kath asks eventually.

Wells shakes his head, biting back his urge to snap at her for thinking that’s important.

She smirks and mouths something that Wells refuses to identify as ‘coward.’

Lincoln is just as laconic on paper. _Plan?_

Wells has been thinking of little else since his conversation with Roan, but he hasn’t got anything solid yet. There are just too many options, so he needs to know more about Nia’s Natblida. They don’t even know her name yet, but it’s where her loyalty lies that interests Wells most.

Azgeda or Nia?

He can work with her if the answer is Azgeda. Roan would be happy with a spare Natblida under his control and a happy Roan means a hope for peace. If she favours Nia, however, Wells’ only option is to turn her over to a merciless Lexa.

For Farm Station.

Definitely not for the Commander, not after her treatment of Tomos and Lincoln.

Not for the woman he’d happily replace with Aden in a heartbeat. It’d be better for the Arkers. Hell, the Azgeda Natblida might be better for the Ark if Roan can control her and keeps his promises. Lexa might not have openly moved against them, like Nia has, but she’s still a dangerous ally.

Clarke is the real problem.

She won’t take kindly to Lexa’s massacre of the Maunon.

Wells is quite willing to wait and encourage Mike’s friendship with Aden until Lexa dies of something else, but Clarke – Clarke won’t take Lexa returning Farm Station as enough for forgiveness for the Maunon and if all she can say is that they’re dead, Clarke will blame her for that too.

Perhaps when Clarke’s anger has faded, they’ll be able to coexist, but until then Wells needs them separated. Needs them preoccupied. Giving Clarke a rescue mission for the survivors of Farm Station would be perfect – if he hadn’t already sorted that problem out by allying with Roan.

Assuming he can trust Roan’s word. Assuming Nia doesn’t take Lexa down first. Assuming he can keep Clarke from clashing with Lexa or Nia.

He wishes he knew who to back, that he had anyone he could discuss it with. If Roan is lying, Wells and Clarke will make certain Azgeda goes the same way as the Mountain. If only the Natblida wasn’t such an unknown quantity.

She has no alliance with the Ark, no reason to free Farm Station regardless of if her loyalty is to Azgeda or Nia. She’s proven cautious enough not to move openly against Lexa, the loss of Nia here should be enough of a blow to encourage her to retreat and regroup. If the Arkers join the Coalition officially, moving against them would be the same as moving against Lexa.

Without Nia or Roan to guide her, it’s a mystery what the Natblida would do. Wells wonders if he could manipulate events to set Azgeda against Trikru. Keep the Natblida alive as a threat that Lexa would need to deal with.

Even a war between Azgeda and Trikru might not be a bad thing. Stomkru would naturally fall on the side of Trikru and whatever Clarke’s contribution to the fall of Azgeda, it’d leave her and Lexa on friendlier terms.

Wells writes two headings on the paper. Natblida and Farm Station.

Under Farm Station he writes Clarke.

Under Natblida he writes Kath.

The next time Miller sees Finn, he looks less lost.

Or at least he’s found someone willing to grope him in the middle of a crowded dance floor.

It’s the last night before they leave Alpha Station for Mount Weather. Bree and Roma’s temporary nightclub is packed with Grounders, Arkers and Delinquents alike. Since Miller was last here, someone has put up a sign naming the tent _Jasper’s._

Or to be specific _Jaspers._

Grammar isn’t all that popular with the Delinquents.

Miller’s never been accused of being a killjoy before. True, the only one accusing him of that now is himself, but still. He’d spent more than his fair share of time having fun on the Ark. He’d got drunk and got high and danced and now he’s standing at the side of everything, nursing a single pint and preparing his response for when he’s inevitably summoned before Chancellor Griffin for another little chat about not encouraging discontent, his father silently begging him to back down from the same spot Miller takes behind Clarke.

It’s not a flattering mirror of his future.

He’d rather be arguing with Clarke than her mother though. Even if his Hainofi would’ve beaten him by now. The Chancellor is sticking to the word of the Exodus Charter, Clarke wouldn’t. Disobedience is disobedience. Not that a whipping would stop him. Not with innocent lives in the balance.

As long as he stays within the law, though, Clarke’s mother won’t touch him. And his father knows he’d fight.

If it comes to it, Miller will break whatever laws it takes. He’s no martyr, no hero, just a thief.

Just a Setneshona split from his kru under orders from Bree to have fun.

Naturally that makes having fun impossible.

Finn doesn’t seem to have the same problem. Not even the threat of seeing Clarke and Raven again is slowing him down.

Miller should be celebrating. He’s going home.

He’d thought his dad and the Ark were his home too, before he’d got them back.

Shit. Finn is making his way through the crowd towards him.

“Who’re you waiting for?” Finn asks.

“I’m not?” Miller says, not sure if it’s a come on or has some other double meaning.

Finn grins. “Every time someone comes in, you check them out, then look all disappointed.”

Miller hadn’t noticed himself doing that. Finn leans in closer. Did he have his nipples pierced before? Miller hadn’t noticed that either. Course the only other time he’d seen him shirtless had been -

He drinks some of the Grounder alcohol to avoid blurting anything out about Clarke or belts.

Finn seems happy to fill in both halves of the conversation. “Thanks, by the way. I’m over, y’know, everything.”

If he won’t even say their names, Miller sincerely doubts that. Shit, it’s his turn to say something again. “So, are you with Bree and Roma?”

Something about that’s amusing. “No, with isn’t the right word,” Finn tells him. “It’s easier without the love. Oh, they love each other. I’m more like – like a pet that does amusing tricks.”

That sounds like hell to Miller, but if Finn’s happy with that … “Amusing tricks like, um, what’s her name?” Miller gestures at the crowd, not able to pick out the girl Finn had been grinding against.

“I don’t know,” Finn admits easily.

Miller twitches a judgmental eyebrow.

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Finn protests. He finally looks a little embarrassed, which give what he is, or rather isn’t, wearing, Miller thinks should have happened much earlier. “’m not allowed,” he mumbles.

Like he had permission before. “Not sure I’d call that nothing,” Miller says, aiming for a neutral tone instead of a lecturing one. It’s not even like there’s a chance of him getting away with it, this is Bree and Roma’s place, no matter that it says Jasper over the door. Hell, he can see them from across the tent, there’s not much they miss. He hadn’t thought Finn was any kind of masochist or even a troublemaker like Murphy.

Finn can’t look Miller in the eye anymore. “Not ‘llowed t’ get off,” he clarifies.

It takes an astonishing amount of effort for Miller not to laugh. He sounds so sulky about it.

But it can’t be the whole story.

Finn wouldn’t accept that unless there were other perks and he’s already said it isn’t love.

Miller really doesn’t want to know.

Only now he’s thinking about it and maybe it is a useful scrap of information to hold onto for Clarke and Raven.

Urgh, the things he does for his kru.

Not like he didn’t already know Finn believed orgasms were something you earned by a set amount of good behaviour.

Miller is _saved_ by the arrival of Fox. Bree and Roma’s message runner. Miller always feels the urge to get his back against a solid surface when she’s around.

She smirks at the pair of them and Miller feels inexplicably embarrassed, as though he’d been found in a compromising position with Finn. He’s not sure it’s a relief that Finn looks equally ashamed.

Huh. He hadn’t been sure Finn knew what shame was.

“Mbege’s drunk,” Fox tells them, as though it’s Miller’s job to control his temporary kru outside their campaign against the slaughter of innocents. “Getting handsy with Angela.”

Unfortunate, but still not Miller’s problem. He’s not the damn bouncer.

It’s Finn that nods though. “And she’s too nice to kick him in the balls.”

Miller sighs and puts his drink aside, so he can roll up his sleeves. Nothing Bellamy or Clarke or even Wells wouldn’t ask him to do.

Finn stops him with a palm on the chest.

Miller Looks at him and he removes his hand quickly.

With a wink, Finn turns and slips his way through the crowd, finding gaps Miller would have dismissed as too small. He’s at Mbege’s side in seconds, striking up a conversation that has him turning. Without looking away from his target, Finn draws him away from Angela a step at a time. She takes the opportunity to duck away under someone’s arm.

By the time Miller has found Finn and Mbege again after he’s certain Angela’s okay, Finn has gotten Mbege to a bench at the side and is nodding, apparently fascinated, as Mbege holds forth on some topic that judging by his arm movements is … possibly obscene.

Huh.

Finn had been wasted sitting up a tree. Sure, Clarke wasn’t running a nightclub, but she could have done with way more support from the Delinquents. Finn’s _charismatic_.

Bree and Roma have done a much better job of making him useful than Clarke and Miller had.

Fox hasn’t gone.

She’s been watching him watching Finn.

“Bree says you’re spoiling the mood,” Fox tells Miller. “You need to get off.”

“Tell her that’s none of her business. Remind her how recently my boyfriend died.” Miller can’t keep his hands from curling into fists, but he shoves them into his pockets. There will come a time when he can fight the woman who killed Bryan, until then he can control his anger.

Fox notices.

She doesn’t comment which for some reason makes Miller feel angrier.

“And remind her I don’t take her orders. Never have, never will. I’m Clarke’s man.”

“Don’t be so quick to say never,” Fox tells him smugly. “That’s what Finn said – right after you handed him over. Didn’t take him long to fold.

“I wouldn’t use Finn as an example of loyalty,” is all Miller has to say to that.

“You want him?” Fox says as though she’s offering him a cup of tea.

“ _Fuck_ no!”

She shrugs one sharp shoulder. “If you change your mind, just check in with Bree or Roma first. Get permission.” And then, without any farewell, she’s off, darting into the crowd like a rabbit into brambles.

“Don’t need their damn permission,” Miller mutters to himself, half tempted to screw Finn just to prove it.

He won’t though.

He respects Raven and Clarke too much for that.

Besides.

He really isn’t interested.

Jasper is the first one out the tent, tossing one of the spears leaning against the side of the tarp to Monty. The pair are in perfect synch, already spreading to flank Harper, armed with a third spear, by the time Clarke’s outside.

Everyone keeps low, using the tents for cover.

“From the woods,” Shoana hisses, making Clarke and Bellamy jump. There’s something suddenly more graceful about her quick, sharp movements as she moves to pass the same message on to Jasper.

“No,” Bellamy says, loudly enough that even Murphy glares at him to quiet down.

Octavia crosses her arms huffily.

“Go inside,” Bellamy orders. “Into the Mountain, you’ll be safe there.”

To Clarke’s mild surprise, it’s Murphy that answers.

“Yeah, she’ll be safe. Not like there’s any of Cage’s supporters left in there who might want a chance at the one who killed him.” He’s witheringly sarcastic.

Bellamy clenches a fist. “Fine. O, stay behind me.”

Rolling her eyes, Octavia offers Bellamy one of her knives. He takes it and she produces two more from the sleeves of her loose brown blouse.

Jasper and Monty reach the edge of the woods, Shoana and Harper already camouflaged well enough that Clarke can’t locate either girl.

There’s a stretch of open ground between the last tent and the woods and, even though there’s been no more gunshots, Clarke is hesitant to cross it. Atom touches her arm and Hainofi whirls round, ready to tear him apart for daring to. He grins easily and hands her a lightweight black box with a button.

“Taser,” Atom tells her quietly. “Point that end at the enemy, got a range of like six foot, press and if you’re lucky you got a few seconds to run the other way. One shot only.”

It’s nothing like the shock batons Clarke saw in use on the Ark. She doesn’t thank him when she takes it, it’s better than nothing, but only barely. Besides, he’s holding an actual gun. She’ll have to have a word with Maya about arming the less trustworthy Arkers.

At least no one’s given Murphy a weapon.

Yet.

Clarke steps forward, out into the open space between the tents and the woods.

“There’s a body here!” Harper calls, prompting Clarke’s group to break into a sprint.

Octavia’s the slowest of them and Bellamy holds back for her. Atom does the opposite and runs ahead. Clarke doesn’t realise Murphy’s keeping pace with her until she reaches the trees and he catches her arm.

She twists towards him, furious, but he doesn’t let go.

“Another couple of steps and you’d be upside down with your skirt around your ears,” Murphy says.

Now that she knows it’s there, Clarke can pick out the hidden rope trap in her path. She yanks her arm free, then slaps him. He steps back, arms held protectively, just as Bellamy and Octavia join them.

“See if I warn you next time,” Murphy says, checking the side of his mouth for blood, more out of habit than concern.

“Bitch,” Octavia mutters as she brushes past Clarke, knocking their shoulders together roughly.

Bellamy’s between the two girls before Hainofi can respond and Harper breaks the tension by drawing their attention to the body.

It’s only a few steps beyond the rope trap. Clarke’s medical training kicks in.

Male. Early thirties. Maunon guard uniform. Single gunshot wound to left temple. Not self-inflicted. Right hand on his gun, but it’s still in the holster. Eyes open, glassy.

She kneels to check his pulse anyway, finding nothing. The chill rain has already leeched most of his heat, but she’s pretty sure he was killed by the gunshot they heard minutes before.

Harper shakes her head not needing the question to be vocalised. “Only tracks I could find were his.”

“Shooter was up in the trees,” Shoana says, holding her arm at a demonstrative angle.

Clarke, who had been about to make the same observation, nods, then closes the body’s eyes gently.

Harper’s halfway up the tree, Atom covering her with his gun, by the time Clarke looks up again.

“Broken twigs up here,” Harper reports, dropping back down and dusting off her hands.

“Bunch of guards ran off after Cage got killed,” Atom tells them, “Nice work there, O.”

Bellamy scowls while Octavia looks thrilled.

“Lieutenant Emerson,” Monty says. “I mean, this isn’t him, but he’s the one who took them. Jasper shot him in the leg.”

“So, what? He betray Emerson and try to go back to the Mountain?” Murphy suggests.

“Looks more like an ambush,” Harper says. “One shooter, not a group hunt.”

“Emerson couldn’t climb with his leg,” Jasper points out. “Could’ve been a Grounder.”

“With a gun?”

Clarke holds up a hand for silence. “Whoever the killer is, Atom, you didn’t think it worth mentioning that there were enemies with guns in the area? Enemies with a personal vendetta against my kru.”

He shrugs, far too casual. “Jasper, Monty and Harper knew too, reckoned one of them told you already. Or Maya.”

“His nametag’s gone,” Monty tells them before Clarke can work out who she’s supposed to be most furious at. “Someone in the Mountain should be able to id him.”

“No,” Clarke says as Jasper and Bellamy move to help Monty lift the body. “There’s no need to tell the Maunon. It’d just cause panic. Besides, they’ll think we killed him.”

“Is that what Jaha said?” Harper asks.

“What?”

“Chancellor Jaha,” Harper clarifies. “When your father went to him about the Ark running out of oxygen. It’d just cause panic. _Is that what he said?_ ”

To everyone’s surprise, it’s Murphy that comes to Clarke’s defence. “Who gives a fuck? Jaha ain’t here and this dead bastard ain’t no danger to the Maunon no more.”

There’s a brief silence as the group try to tally up the negatives in a way that makes sense.

“They don’t need to know,” Murphy concludes.

Atom tucks his gun into his waistband where it’s covered by his jacket. “Maya’s pulling off fucking miracles, but she’s got more than enough to deal with. Telling them about this guy is just gonna get us, and her, killed.”

Those two are definitely bottom of Clarke’s list of desired allies, but she’ll take what she can get. Even if their support of the idea is making her reconsider.

“’Sides, it’s not nearly the worst thing our Princess is keeping from them.”

Clarke closes her eyes briefly, to collect her thoughts and avoid their questioning stares. She hadn’t known Atom knew, even Maya didn’t.

“Oh, _they_ don’t know neither?”

“Atom, shut up.” Murphy’s defending her again.

Weird.

“Raven,” Atom says and that almost explains it. “All she needed was the frequency you and darling mommy were chatting on and a radio. She wanted to go straight to Maya, but I convinced her to give you a chance to explain.”

“Clarke?” Octavia looks half scared half angry. “What’s he talking about?”

“The Grounders,” Clarke tells them, not a lie, but she knows she’s downplaying her mother’s involvement. Trying to hide Wells’ part completely. “They’re not – their laws are harsh.”

“Wow,” Murphy mutters sarcastically. “Wonder what it’d be like to live with harsh laws.”

“They wanted to kill the children too!” Clarke snaps. “The Ark never -”

“Except us,” Atom points out. “Happy to sacrifice us, send us to the Ground. Happy to keep us in little boxes until we were old enough to kill.”

Bellamy puts a hand on Atom’s shoulder, silencing him immediately.

“What do you mean, kill the children _too_?” Monty asks in the tone of one who knows the answer and hopes he’s wrong.

It’s an easy choice, Clarke’s said too much already and she’s only kept it from them this long in the hopes of having a solution ready to go. That and she didn’t trust Atom and Jasper not to go running to Maya. “The Grounders want the Maunon dead. They don’t care that they’ve surrendered. We managed to persuade them to spare the children, but ...”

“We?” Murphy asks scornfully.

Clarke finds it almost a relief. He makes more sense when openly hostile. “Wells, he’s their Ambassador now. He talked to …”

Murphy snorts in either amusement or disgust.

“You promised them.” Jasper doesn’t yell.

Clarke still flinches.

“It’s war, Jordan,” Atom says, as close to apologetic as Clarke’s ever heard him. “It’s not gonna be nice and clean and –“

Octavia punches Atom in the arm. Probably didn’t hurt through the Maunon guard jacket he’s wearing, but it shuts him up. Then again, that might be more related to the fact she’s still holding her knives.

“I’m working on it,” Clarke tells them. “Me and Miller, we’re doing everything we can. Wells too.”

“But not Abigail Griffin,” Atom points out, eying Octavia for signs of further attack.

Clarke just shakes her head. What is there to say.

“We should be giving bone marrow,” Jasper says after a moment. “Getting as many of them as we can out of the Mountain before the Grounders get here.”

“And send them where?” It’s exactly what Clarke had been about to say, but Bellamy beats her to it. “This is their home, they won’t want to leave.”

“Besides, we start making them able to walk outside and the next thing you know that surrender ain’t so popular. Grounders and Arkers show up and we’re long dead and they get that nightmare fog right in the face.”

Jasper rounds on Atom. “Whose floating side are you on here?”

Atom jabs Jasper in the chest with both hands, pushing him back a step. “I’m on Maya’s side and I’ll do what it takes to keep her alive. Float Clarke, float Jaha, float the rest of the Maunon. And float you too if you get in my way.”

Clarke startles as Harper touches her arm, she hadn’t noticed her move away from the sniper’s tree.

“The body,” Harper reminds her as Jasper reacts poorly to the shove.

“Enough,” Hainofi commands. Atom might not take orders from Clarke, but it freezes Jasper in place.

Bellamy folds his arms and steps to Clarke’s side, glaring the arguing pair down.

“There is a plan, not a whole solution. It was Miller’s idea.” Clarke’s not surprised that that’s enough to get a few nods. They all know Miller, trust him. “But it has to wait until the moment the Arkers and Grounders arrive. We can’t pull it off alone.”

She’d used a different frequency to talk to Miller in private, either Raven hadn’t known or hadn’t bothered to share it with Atom.

“And we can’t tell Maya.” Clarke holds up a hand towards Atom and Jasper. “She’ll tell everyone. This won’t work if the Maunon are fighting each other. Okay? If you don’t think you can keep it quiet, walk away now.”

Atom sneers at her and Jasper rolls his eyes, but they stay put.

“Murphy, Bellamy.” Clarke turns to the two she’s most sure don’t care either way about the Maunon. “Get rid of the body.”

Neither argue. Part of Clarke, the Hainofi part, wishes they would.

“Raven is going to need to hear this too,” Clarke tells the rest of the group.

“Cut the bullshit, princess.” Atom doesn’t give orders like Hainofi, he makes them lazily, like he knows they’ll be followed, but doesn’t much care if they aren’t.

Clarke tells them Miller’s plan.

Then the arguing starts again.

It’s an hour or so earlier than usual when Lexa calls for the halt to set up camp. It isn’t until Wells is called to the Heda’s side that he recognises the area. They’ve left enough trees between them and the dropship that it wasn’t immediately visible.

Wells walks beside Aden and Mike into the Delinquent camp with trepidation. He hadn’t looked back when he’d walked away with seventy five criminals he’d won the allegiance of and even then, there had been those who stayed. Now it’s truly abandoned.

Lexa and Anya are on edge, twitching towards every sound or movement, but they relax when the gonas ahead call that it’s clear. Wells is less easily calmed. The last word he’d had about Clarke was Harper’s broadcast garbled through Lexa, Aden and Mike. He might not be a solider, but the signs of a fight are unmistakable.

One of the gonas calls something in Trigedasleng and Wells might not understand it exactly, but it doesn’t sound good.

The white haz-suit on the body is a relief. Even more the sword sticking out of their side. One of the ones Wells had left for Clarke’s suicide squad.

“Maunon,” Anya says and spits to the side.

Wells hadn’t been sure what he’d expected the Maunon to look like, but this is just a man. Even the haz-suit makes him seem more familiar than the Grounders.

Belatedly he remembers Mike. He moves to block the younger boy’s view into the tent. “You don’t have to-” Wells tells him.

Mike looks confused.

Behind Wells someone pulls the sword free with a horrendous squishy noise. Bile rising in his throat, Wells refuses to look. Mike reacts far less reasonably.

“That is so cool,” Mike says, too enthusiastic for Wells’ liking.

He dodges around Wells, who is forced to turn to try and stop him. Aden is holding the sword. It takes all Wells’ willpower to keep the bile in his throat from rising further.

Aden splashes some water from his canteen onto the tacky brownish _stuff_ on the blade and cleans it with a scrap of cloth. Wells looks away.

Mike’s next to him a few seconds later, showing him the blade. It’s slender, no longer than Wells’ forearm and slightly curved.

“Can I keep it?” Mike asks, still overly enthusiastic about the murder weapon.

Wells nods, not quite trusting himself to speak without screaming. There’s a _dead body_ less than two foot away and he’s the only one bothered by it. He refuses to wonder who exactly killed it.

As long as it wasn’t Clarke.

Murphy’s grinning, like Hercules presenting the body of the Nemean Lion to Eurystheus. He’s holding a damn gun, palms flat, offering it to Bellamy.

It’s from the body. The Maunon guard.

He shouldn’t take it.

But it’d be better than leaving it in Murphy’s possession.

Bellamy grabs the gun fast, as though Murphy might pull it away the second he reaches for it. It’s a lot like the pistol Shumway gave him back on the Ark. 

He checks the safety, flicks it off then on again, just to make sure it’s not stuck. Doesn’t shoot it, it’d be a waste of a bullet and Clarke is still within earshot. Checks the chambers, six shot, five bullets left.

“Pay you back for the one you chucked in the river,” Murphy tells him, as though that’s a normal debt that needed repaying.

Bellamy’s pretty tempted to throw this one in the river too. Or Murphy.

Instead he tucks it into his belt at the back, coat long enough to hide it.

“Clarke doesn’t -” Bellamy starts.

“Need to know,” Murphy finishes for him. “Yeah, yeah.” He stands up from next to the shallow grave and dusts off the dirt on his hands. “Long as you don’t turn that thing on me.”

Bellamy almost protests. An automatic response, definitely not an honest one.

Murphy nods as though he has his answer.

“What are you going to do?” Bellamy asks instead. “When Miller and everyone gets here.”

“Help of course,” Murphy says, hand on his heart and attempting an innocent look.

“You’re a shit liar.”

“Shit at telling the truth too,” Murphy agrees easily. “No matter which I’m aiming for, you seem to think it’s the opposite. I’m not kidding.”

“Bullshit.” Bellamy picks up the shovels they used to dig the grave and shoves them into Murphy’s arms.

“Anyone ever tell you why I was in the Skybox?” He doesn’t bother to wait for an answer. “Course not, you never asked. ‘Sides most of them don’t know the whole story.”

Bellamy waits for this ‘whole story’ to be forthcoming.

It isn’t.

“Go on,” Murphy urges, “ask.”

It doesn’t make any sense to Bellamy; no reason he can think of that he’d need to or that Murphy would want him to. “Why were you in the Skybox?”

“I was sick. Nasty fever.”

“That’s not a reason to -” Bellamy, a fully trained Guard, interrupts.

Murphy rolls his eyes. “It’s called context. Stuff that happens around the main stuff what happens. _I was sick_ and my dad stole medicine. Weren’t even the right stuff. He got floated for it and I got better on my own. So, I set fire to the quarters of the bastard who caught him.”

It’s not an unusual story. Similar enough to ones Bellamy’s heard before. He just hadn’t expected it to be Murphy’s.

“Wow,” Murphy says, a drawn out disbelieving drawl. “You don’t even believe that. What’s the problem? Don’t reckon even my daddy could love me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t need to.”

Bellamy shakes his head, only partially to indicate a negative. “So, you’re going to help Clarke because your dad was a thief?”

“Figures you wouldn’t get it.” Murphy drops the shovels at Bellamy’s feet, then turns to walk back towards camp. “You even know who your dad is? Who Octavia’s is?”

If Murphy was closer Bellamy would have hit him.

“There’s kids in that Mountain.” Murphy stops at the edge of the clearing, not looking back. “Kids who’ve still got a chance not to end up like me. Like us.”

Bellamy has to ask. “What about your mom, Murphy? What happened to her?”

Murphy walks away.

Clarke needs Raven. She’s known that since the mechanic crash landed. It would just be simpler if she didn’t.

Not that she’s going to ask for anything beyond her silence on the Grounders’ intentions. Especially not forgiveness.

It takes her a few moments before she registers Harper is walking next to her.

“Go on then.” Clarke tells her. “Tell me you told me so.”

Playing with Atom had been a terrible choice.

“I slept with Finn,” Harper says instead.

Clarke doesn’t quite know what to do with that information. “And, since you didn’t leave with him, you found it profoundly disappointing?”

“Basically,” Harper admits. “Though I took advantage of his – of him just as much. I miss my hunting partner, I don’t miss his cock.”

“Why are you telling me?” Clarke asks. “I don’t – I won’t get mad about it.” She is upset, but not with Harper at least.

“Because you need to be thinking about what Raven’s missing. How much more she’s lost.”

Clarke nods shortly. She knows. Raven’s mourning the boy who she thought Finn was. The boy she’d loved unconditionally until she found out his love had conditions.

All Clarke has to offer as replacement is – she doesn’t even know what. The protection she wants to give her kru, but that she’s in no position to guarantee.

Maybe –

No.

Clark won’t mention their time in the dropship unless Raven brings it up first.

Harper doesn’t come the whole way, all she has is a confession that will hurt Raven more.

Raven is breaking something. Maybe it’s cathartic, maybe it’s hurting her more. Clarke still feels guilty for leaving her to the task alone.

“Raven,” Clarke says before she’s decided what she’s going to, “it’s time to come home.”

There’s no response, not even a glance in her direction.

“I’ve been hiding too, but my kru – our kru, they need us.”

Raven snorts and hits a metal pipe with something that makes Clarke’s ears ring.

“Atom dragged me out,” Clarke tells her and at least now she seems to be listening. “Had some interesting things to say about conversations I thought I had in private.”

Finally turning to face Clarke, Raven grins mirthlessly. “I’m not on his team now, if that’s what you’re here to ask. I just wanted the Maunon to know and, in case you missed it, I’m not their favourite person.”

“He didn’t tell them.”

Raven doesn’t ask why. “How old is Maya?”

Clarke shrugs.

“Guess she’s got the bone marrow already either way. I can change some dates of birth on the system, if you want. Make it look like there’s more kids. I just need access.” Raven phrases it like an offer, but her tone is uncompromising.

“Couldn’t you just -” Clarke waves her hands in a way that’s definitely not mimicking anything to do with computers.

“I could,” Raven says, neither humble nor bragging, “but then some Maunon checks the logs, sees the changes and changes them right back. Since you’re not going to tell them why.”

“I can get you onto the computer system,” Clarke promises. She carefully doesn’t ask for anything in return. Raven might have brought it up first, but it was one of the suggestions Miller had made.

“If that’s all.” Raven reaches for her toolbox.

“I want you to come back with me,” Clarke says, unable to keep a hint of Hainofi spilling in to make it an order.

Raven, naturally, baulks. “I’m busy. You sent me here to do a job. I’m doing it.”

“I didn’t mean for you to be alone.” Clarke intercepts Raven before she can reach the toolbox and holds her hands to force her to look at her. “For you to get trapped in here. Do I need to get Jasper to blow something up?”

“If anyone’s blowing anything up, it’s me.” Raven half grins, tugging her hands free, but allowing the proximity. “He used flour, Clarke. _Flour_ , like some sort of Old Earth movie!”

Clarke has to admit she doesn’t know how to make a bomb. “It worked, though?”

“Yes, but it’s _tacky_ ,” Raven says.

“I didn’t know you were such a bomb snob.”

Raven puts her nose in the air, but she’s grinning properly. “I simply have a sense of refinement, that someone whose major accomplishment is moonshine cannot appreciate.”

“He’s got a still going again,” Clarke offers. “That news was apparently exciting enough to reach me, if not the news that he’s been feuding with Bellamy, who it seems needs a nemesis or he gets bored.”

“What’d they do?” Raven seems interested enough in the gossip.

“I didn’t dare ask, but Murphy was involved so I fear the worst.”

Raven looks suitably mock horrified, knowing that if there had been any serious consequences Clarke wouldn’t be joking about it.

“With Miller away -” Clarke shakes her head sadly. “Raven, you’re my only hope against them.”

Clarke knows she judged Raven’s need for company, compliments and challenge correctly when Raven puts down her spanner. 

“How can I refuse a damsel in distress?” Raven says gallantly.

She pretends to swoon, and Raven obligingly catches her.

They stare at each other for rather longer than the joke requires, then Clarke breaks away, clearing her throat awkwardly.

At least Raven comes back with her.

It’s not like Miller didn’t know how Mbege felt about the Grounders.

Even Niylah, who was with Bree and Roma more often than her own people and could have passed for one of the Hundred with her adoption of Arker fashion, got ignored at best.

If it hadn’t been for Indra, Miller might have felt the same. Sure, they were on opposite sides of this, she wanted the Maunon dead, but he respected the way she cared for and fought for her people. Hell, anyone who could keep Murphy in hand had earned respect in Miller’s book.

Maybe if someone else had been around.

The night had started peacefully. Miller’s little group, plus Niylah, Finn and a handful of other Delinquents around a campfire, drinking and talking. There had been a group of Grounders sharing their fire, but they’d kept to themselves, only speaking Trig.

One of the Grounders, a man with a patchy beard, said something that prompted glances in the Arkers’ direction and louder laughter than before. Niylah winced. The only word Miller understood was Azgeda.

Mbege was, unfortunately, already drunk.

“What did you say?” he’d asked, standing over the group of Grounders, one hand clenched tight around his cup. “We’re civilised, see. Don’t speak mud eater.”

Miller was on his feet in a second, ready to apologise and drag Mbege away by force if necessary.

That was when Niylah spoke up. “He said the alcohol’s shit. He’s not wrong.”

It might have been enough to defuse the situation if Finn hadn’t decided to help.

“So shit they should have killed us like Azgeda, just so they wouldn’t have to drink it,” Finn sounds amused, drunk enough to have lost what little common sense he had.

Niylah punches Finn in the arm. He doesn’t seem to understand why.

Too little, too late, anyway.

Miller had one hand on Mbege’s arm when Finn spoke. Without much awareness of what happened between, he finds himself with both hands around the closest Grounder’s throat.

“You think that’s fucking funny?” Miller yells in the Grounder’s face. “Think they …”

A boot in his side knocks him off the Grounder and he stumbles away. Mbege catches him and helps him find his footing. Something cold and metal is pressed into Miller’s hand. The weight and shape are familiar. An Arker knuckleduster. Scraps pressed together to make something with edges in unexpected places, cloth on the inside to protect the hand, rough and vicious.

Miller nods his thanks.

It’s still not a fair fight, five on two and the Grounders are trained warriors.

Thee Delinquents don’t go down quick or easy though.

One of the Grounders backs off, face split open from the edge of his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. Miller doesn’t know if he’s responsible.

It feels good.

A simple fight. None of the careful political shit he’s had to juggle since he hit the Ground.

He hits it again.

Flat on his back. Winded. He brings his arm up to defend his face.

Miller can’t help but flinch away when someone reaches down and grabs his arm. Instead of attacking they haul him to his feet. For a second, he thinks it’s Mbege, then the Arker Guard uniform registers. Jones.

Jones, at least, doesn’t look half as angry as Indra.

She’s preventing her people from continuing the fight with nothing more than a held up hand. Her empty swordhand. Even with her weapon at her side while they’re unarmed, Indra is outnumbered and outflanked.

The Grounders sensibly back off.

Mbege is the only one trying to break the ceasefire, but he’s held back by Drew and Diggs. The two Delinquents avoid Miller’s gaze. He’s not angry with them, only himself.

Perhaps a little angry at Finn too.

Indra considers the long scratch on the Grounder’s face for a moment, then asks them something in Trigedasleng.

One of the other Grounders from the fight points at Miller and his stomach sinks. Jones lets him go when he tugs away slightly, trusting Miller’s sense even after … Miller laces his hands behind his back, facing up to Indra, unapologetic.

He doesn’t see where exactly she draws the knife from, barely sees it at all until after it has cut a line of agony across his face. Miller feels the blood soak into his shirt collar. It doesn’t exactly hurt, instead a fuzzy heaviness grows at the edge of hearing. The ground is soft, swaying slightly and suddenly much closer. Jones doesn’t seem to mind that Miller’s leaning against his leg to keep from falling further.

“Shock,” someone says in the far distance, then Jill is there pushing a hot drink into his hands.

“Drink,” says the same voice.

Clarke?

No, not quite. Hainofi?

Miller obeys, the liquid overly sweet with a bitter undertone. Hot enough to burn his tongue. That helps, the new pain lifting most of the confusion and widening his perception.

Chancellor Griffin is sitting in front of him. They’re on the same level and now Miller can vaguely remember his knees buckling.

“Willow bark with honey,” she tells him, sounding almost exactly like her daughter at her most Hainofi.

Miller nods his thanks, not wanting to test moving his face to speak. Dr Griffin takes hold of his chin and tilts his head to examine his cheek. Offering no resistance, Miller meets Indra’s gaze. A Grounder medic is tending to her gona, but she’s watching the Arkers. Dr Griffin presses an antiseptic wipe to Miller’s cheek and he winces but keeps quiet.

Indra turns away abruptly, but Miller could have sworn he saw the start of a smile. That, easily more than her cutting up his face, worries him.

Only other person he’s seen her smile like that about is Murphy.

Kath finds Wells in one of the storage tents brooding over a box of weapons. She only briefly wonders where it came from, but she has other priorities.

“Ontari,” Kath says, startling him. “The Azgeda Natblida, her name’s Ontari.”

Wells nods. “Is that all?” It’s dismissive.

Her temper rising, Kath shakes her head and fights the urge to shake him instead. “She’s a gona -”

“I know,” Wells interrupts.

“Shut up and let me speak,” Kath snaps,

He looks taken aback, but she’s got his attention at least.

“She’s a gona,” Kath starts over, “a good one, but not the best. I saw her pick a few fights, and she always went after those she knew she could beat easy. Looked like she enjoyed humiliating them, hurt them more than she needed. Ambitious too, she loves Nia’s attention and acts like she’s the Azgeda Princess already. And, luckily for us, she’s stupid. She doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself and whoever is offering her stuff.”

Wells then says, “She’d ruin the Coalition.”

Kath shrugs. “No Coalition means the people in Mount Weather won’t get slaughtered. Maybe we should be helping her.”

It takes Wells an awkwardly long time to respond, but just as Kath is about to ask if he’s okay, he answers. “Azgeda want the Maunon dead just as much as Lexa does. The Coalition wouldn’t die quietly, it’d be war. A war we couldn’t help but get caught up in. But you might have a point. She’d ruin Azgeda too.”

She thinks she knows what he’s suggesting, “Nia hasn’t, like, officially named her Hainofi.”

“Yet.”

“She won’t.” An unexpected voice comes from over by the entrance to the tent.

Kath finds herself automatically reaching for a weapon from the crate, while Wells whirls round. The long Grounder coat he’s taken to wearing swirls with his momentum and knocks the crate lid to the floor.

Roan doesn’t exactly look amused, but he shows them his empty hands. “You’re lucky I wasn’t Lexa, girl,” he says to Kath who bristles.

Wells puts his hand on the arm she’d reached for the weapons with and gently forces it down. She almost snaps at him instead, but he suddenly looks incredibly tired and she restrains herself.

“What do you mean, ‘won’t’?” Kath asks Roan instead.

“My mother doesn’t trust anyone,” Roan says simply, “and Azgeda loves strength most. Hainofi killing Haiplana happens and Nia knows she cannot win that fight. She will not name anyone Hainofi. She will die with no heir. Azgeda will fight Azgeda.”

“So why haven’t you killed her yet?” Kath asks, not caring if she’s being rude. “You’re High Whatever, they’d follow you.”

“She’s family,” Roan replies as though it explains everything and maybe it does.

“That’s enough,” Wells snaps and it’s the first time she’s seen him close to anger. “Kath, go help Lexa search the camp. I want to know if Clarke left a message.”

“Oh, you want to be alone with your new boyfriend.” Kath hates being sent away like Wells trusts this _Grounder_ more than her.

“Kath,” Wells says and now he sounds like he’s warning her.

It’s bullshit. They can’t trust Roan, Wells must know that. The Azgeda Prince hadn’t done anything to stop the slaughter of Farm Station. Hell, he’d probably been part of it.

She walks out without needing to be told again. Wells wants to hang out with the hot murderer that’s his choice. He’d grown up on Alpha Station, probably didn’t have any friends from Farm Station. Not fancy enough for him.

Kath had been so stupid to think she and the Chancellor’s son could have anything in common.

A step away from the exit and her foot hit something that crunched. Checking that she hadn’t broken anything, Kath found a crumpled scrap of the thick paper the Grounders use. She thinks it’s made of some sort of plant, very different from the screens she’d used on the Ark. Wells and Roan aren’t paying attention, talking rapidly and quietly, so Kath pockets the paper.

Once she’s outside, she doesn’t want to follow Wells’ orders. It’s mostly spite. If he wants the camp searched, he can do it himself. The rest is curiosity.

Circling the tent, Kath finds a spot where the tarps overlap. They’re laced together with one of the Delinquents’ attempts at twisting rope, already unravelling. Her bent scrap metal knife easily parts the strands until she can fold back the tarp and look through.

It takes her eyes a moment to adjust, but she’d picked her spot well and is partially hidden from Roan and Wells by the stacks of supplies. For a second Kath thinks she needs to go save Wells. Roan has hold of his forearm, pulling him close to talk directly in Wells’ ear. She can’t see Roan’s other hand and it’s all too easy to imagine a blade in it.

She’s too far from the entrance of the tent and the gap she’s made isn’t anywhere near big enough to get though. As Roan raises his arm, Kath thinks she’s about to watch Wells die, but the Azgeda Prince’s hand is empty.

Instead Roan cups his hand gently around the back of Wells’ neck and pulls him in for a kiss.

Kath actually manages to fall over in her haste to back away, her foot slipping on a loose stone. She sits there for what feels like a long time, doing her best not to think about what they’re doing in there.

She’s not very successful.

Sure, she’d joked about it, but Wells isn’t dumb, he must know what a beyond stupid idea this is. _And no,_ Kath firmly tells the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Wells himself, _her thing with Artigas is not the same._ There’s a huge difference between a boy from Trikru and the heir of Azgeda.

“Bandrona Kath?”

Kath almost falls over even further when she twists to see the speaker.

“Are you okay?” Lexa asks, somehow making what would have been casual on the Ark sound formal.

“Yes, I’m -” Kath gets to her feet gracelessly. “I’m fine, sir, uh, Commander. Heda.” Her panic isn’t just from surprise, she knows immediately that she can’t let Lexa know about Wells and Roan. How can she –

Wobbling deliberately, Kath winces and pulls one foot away from the ground. “Actually,” she says quietly, “my ankle …”

Lexa wastes no time in wrapping one arm around Kath to support her to the nearest abandoned campfire. Someone had cut round segments of log to make seats and Lexa assists her onto one of those.

“It’s okay,” Kath says quickly when Lexa kneels to take hold of her ankle. “I just need to rest for a bit.”

The Commander doesn’t let go.

Not daring to argue further, Kath allows Lexa to unlace her boot. It feels very different from when she’d first met Wells. Lexa is more confident, silent and apparently unconcerned with Kath’s comfort. The inspection is over quickly, Kath barely having time to feign the occasional flinch or gasp of pain.

“Just twisted,” Lexa concludes, sitting back on her heels. “If you’re lucky it will bruise, if not it will swell. Go to a fisa if it does.”

Kath nods, presuming the unfamiliar Grounder word means doctor. Not that it matters, her ankle definitely won’t be doing anything unusual.

Satisfied, Lexa stands and goes to a tarp covered pile of wood intended for the fire. The base of the pile has soaked up water from the ground making nearly half unusable, but she picks out enough pieces to fill the circle of stones.

“Kindling?” Lexa asks.

Kath has a vague memory of the word from her Earth Skills lessons. Pike had demonstrated with dried plant fibres, but everything around is wet from the recent rain. She checks her pockets, finding only the scrap of paper she’d picked up in the tent. It’d work, but she still doesn’t know what it says.

Lexa doesn’t seem too bothered when Kath shakes her head, just starts cutting shavings off the edge of the driest log.

While the heda is occupied, Kath pulls the crumpled paper from her pocket and opens it.

 _Dear Clarke, I know I can’t convince you to walk away._ it begins.


End file.
